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diff --git a/753-h/753-h.htm b/753-h/753-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b27bd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/753-h/753-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11936 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +ARIZONA NIGHTS +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 5%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.salutation {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.closing {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Arizona Nights, by Stewart Edward White + +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: Arizona Nights + +Author: Stewart Edward White + +Release Date: January 19, 2008 [EBook #753] +Last updated: January 22, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARIZONA NIGHTS *** + + + + + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +ARIZONA NIGHTS +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +STEWART EDWARD WHITE +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +TABLE OF CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAP.</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0101">THE OLE VIRGINIA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0102">THE EMIGRANTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0103">THE REMITTANCE MAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0104">THE CATTLE RUSTLERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0105">THE DRIVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0106">CUTTING OUT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0107">A CORNER IN HORSES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0108">THE CORRAL BRANDING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0109">THE OLD TIMER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0110">THE TEXAS RANGERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0111">THE SAILOR WITH ONE HAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0112">THE MURDER ON THE BEACH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0113">BURIED TREASURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0114">THE CHEWED SUGAR CANE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0115">THE CALABASH STEW</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0116">THE HONK-HONK BREED</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II—THE TWO GUN MAN +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0201">THE CATTLE RUSTLERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0202">THE MAN WITH NERVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0203">THE AGREEMENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0204">THE ACCOMPLISHMENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART III—THE RAWHIDE +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0301">THE PASSING OF THE COLT'S FORTY-FIVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0302">THE SHAPES OF ILLUSION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0303">THE PAPER A YEAR OLD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0304">DREAMS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0305">THE ARRIVAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0306">THE WAGON TIRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0307">ESTRELLA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0308">THE ROUND-UP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0309">THE LONG TRAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0310">THE DISCOVERY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0311">THE CAPTURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0312">IN THE ARROYO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0313">THE RAWHIDE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap0314">THE DESERT</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0101"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OLE VIRGINIA +</H3> + +<P> +The ring around the sun had thickened all day long, and the turquoise +blue of the Arizona sky had filmed. Storms in the dry countries are +infrequent, but heavy; and this surely meant storm. +</P> + +<P> +We had ridden since sun-up over broad mesas, down and out of deep +canons, along the base of the mountain in the wildest parts of the +territory. The cattle were winding leisurely toward the high country; +the jack rabbits had disappeared; the quail lacked; we did not see a +single antelope in the open. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a case of hole up," the Cattleman ventured his opinion. "I have a +ranch over in the Double R. Charley and Windy Bill hold it down. +We'll tackle it. What do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +The four cowboys agreed. We dropped into a low, broad watercourse, +ascended its bed to big cottonwoods and flowing water, followed it into +box canons between rim-rock carved fantastically and painted like a +Moorish facade, until at last in a widening below a rounded hill, we +came upon an adobe house, a fruit tree, and a round corral. This was +the Double R. +</P> + +<P> +Charley and Windy Bill welcomed us with soda biscuits. We turned our +horses out, spread our beds on the floor, filled our pipes, and +squatted on our heels. Various dogs of various breeds investigated us. +It was very pleasant, and we did not mind the ring around the sun. +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody else coming," announced the Cattleman finally. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Jim," said Charley, after a glance. +</P> + +<P> +A hawk-faced old man with a long white beard and long white hair rode +out from the cottonwoods. He had on a battered broad hat abnormally +high of crown, carried across his saddle a heavy "eight square" rifle, +and was followed by a half-dozen lolloping hounds. +</P> + +<P> +The largest and fiercest of the latter, catching sight of our group, +launched himself with lightning rapidity at the biggest of the ranch +dogs, promptly nailed that canine by the back of the neck, shook him +violently a score of times, flung him aside, and pounced on the next. +During the ensuing few moments that hound was the busiest thing in the +West. He satisfactorily whipped four dogs, pursued two cats up a tree, +upset the Dutch oven and the rest of the soda biscuits, stampeded the +horses, and raised a cloud of dust adequate to represent the smoke of +battle. We others were too paralysed to move. Uncle Jim sat placidly +on his white horse, his thin knees bent to the ox-bow stirrups, smoking. +</P> + +<P> +In ten seconds the trouble was over, principally because there was no +more trouble to make. The hound returned leisurely, licking from his +chops the hair of his victims. Uncle Jim shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Trailer," said he sadly, "is a little severe." +</P> + +<P> +We agreed heartily, and turned in to welcome Uncle Jim with a fresh +batch of soda biscuits. +</P> + +<P> +The old man was one of the typical "long hairs." He had come to the +Galiuro Mountains in '69, and since '69 he had remained in the Galiuro +Mountains, spite of man or the devil. At present he possessed some +hundreds of cattle, which he was reputed to water, in a dry season, +from an ordinary dishpan. In times past he had prospected. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, the severe Trailer having dropped to slumber, he held +forth on big-game hunting and dogs, quartz claims and Apaches. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever have any very close calls?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +He ruminated a few moments, refilled his pipe with some awful tobacco, +and told the following experience: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In the time of Geronimo I was living just about where I do now; and +that was just about in line with the raiding. You see, Geronimo, and +Ju [1], and old Loco used to pile out of the reservation at Camp +Apache, raid south to the line, slip over into Mexico when the soldiers +got too promiscuous, and raid there until they got ready to come back. +Then there was always a big medicine talk. Says Geronimo: +</P> + +<P> +"I am tired of the warpath. I will come back from Mexico with all my +warriors, if you will escort me with soldiers and protect my people." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," says the General, being only too glad to get him back at +all. +</P> + +<P> +So, then, in ten minutes there wouldn't be a buck in camp, but next +morning they shows up again, each with about fifty head of hosses. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'd you get those hosses?" asks the General, suspicious. +</P> + +<P> +"Had 'em pastured in the hills," answers Geronimo. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't take all those hosses with me; I believe they're stolen!" says +the General. +</P> + +<P> +"My people cannot go without their hosses," says Geronimo. +</P> + +<P> +So, across the line they goes, and back to the reservation. In about a +week there's fifty-two frantic Greasers wanting to know where's their +hosses. The army is nothing but an importer of stolen stock, and knows +it, and can't help it. +</P> + +<P> +Well, as I says, I'm between Camp Apache and the Mexican line, so that +every raiding party goes right on past me. The point is that I'm a +thousand feet or so above the valley, and the renegades is in such a +devil of a hurry about that time that they never stop to climb up and +collect me. Often I've watched them trailing down the valley in a +cloud of dust. Then, in a day or two, a squad of soldiers would come +up, and camp at my spring for a while. They used to send soldiers to +guard every water hole in the country so the renegades couldn't get +water. After a while, from not being bothered none, I got thinking I +wasn't worth while with them. +</P> + +<P> +Me and Johnny Hooper were pecking away at the old Virginia mine then. +We'd got down about sixty feet, all timbered, and was thinking of +cross-cutting. One day Johnny went to town, and that same day I got in +a hurry and left my gun at camp. +</P> + +<P> +I worked all the morning down at the bottom of the shaft, and when I +see by the sun it was getting along towards noon, I put in three good +shots, tamped 'em down, lit the fusees, and started to climb out. +</P> + +<P> +It ain't noways pleasant to light a fuse in a shaft, and then have to +climb out a fifty-foot ladder, with it burning behind you. I never did +get used to it. You keep thinking, "Now suppose there's a flaw in that +fuse, or something, and she goes off in six seconds instead of two +minutes? where'll you be then?" It would give you a good boost +towards your home on high, anyway. +</P> + +<P> +So I climbed fast, and stuck my head out the top without looking—and +then I froze solid enough. There, about fifty feet away, climbing up +the hill on mighty tired hosses, was a dozen of the ugliest Chiricahuas +you ever don't want to meet, and in addition a Mexican renegade named +Maria, who was worse than any of 'em. I see at once their hosses was +tired out, and they had a notion of camping at my water hole, not +knowing nothing about the Ole Virginia mine. +</P> + +<P> +For two bits I'd have let go all holts and dropped backwards, trusting +to my thick head for easy lighting. Then I heard a little fizz and +sputter from below. At that my hair riz right up so I could feel the +breeze blow under my hat. For about six seconds I stood there like an +imbecile, grinning amiably. Then one of the Chiricahuas made a sort of +grunt, and I sabed that they'd seen the original exhibit your Uncle Jim +was making of himself. +</P> + +<P> +Then that fuse gave another sputter and one of the Apaches said "Un +dah." That means "white man." It was harder to turn my head than if +I'd had a stiff neck; but I managed to do it, and I see that my ore +dump wasn't more than ten foot away. I mighty near overjumped it; and +the next I knew I was on one side of it and those Apaches on the other. +Probably I flew; leastways I don't seem to remember jumping. +</P> + +<P> +That didn't seem to do me much good. The renegades were grinning and +laughing to think how easy a thing they had; and I couldn't rightly +think up any arguments against that notion—at least from their +standpoint. They were chattering away to each other in Mexican for the +benefit of Maria. Oh, they had me all distributed, down to my +suspender buttons! And me squatting behind that ore dump about as +formidable as a brush rabbit! +</P> + +<P> +Then, all at once, one of my shots went off down in the shaft. +</P> + +<P> +"Boom!" says she, plenty big; and a slather of rock, and stones come +out of the mouth, and began to dump down promiscuous on the scenery. I +got one little one in the shoulder-blade, and found time to wish my ore +dump had a roof. But those renegades caught it square in the thick of +trouble. One got knocked out entirely for a minute, by a nice piece of +country rock in the head. +</P> + +<P> +"Otra vez!" yells I, which means "again." +</P> + +<P> +"Boom!" goes the Ole Virginia prompt as an answer. +</P> + +<P> +I put in my time dodging, but when I gets a chance to look, the Apaches +has all got to cover, and is looking scared. +</P> + +<P> +"Otra vez!" yells I again. +</P> + +<P> +"Boom!" says the Ole Virginia. +</P> + +<P> +This was the biggest shot of the lot, and she surely cut loose. I +ought to have been half-way up the bill watching things from a safe +distance, but I wasn't. Lucky for me the shaft was a little on the +drift, so she didn't quite shoot my way. But she distributed about a +ton over those renegades. They sort of half got to their feet +uncertain. +</P> + +<P> +"Otra vez!" yells I once more, as bold as if I could keep her shooting +all day. +</P> + +<P> +It was just a cold, raw blazer; and if it didn't go through I could see +me as an Apache parlour ornament. But it did. Those Chiricahuas give +one yell and skipped. It was surely a funny sight, after they got +aboard their war ponies, to see them trying to dig out on horses too +tired to trot. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't stop to get all the laughs, though. In fact, I give one jump +off that ledge, and I lit a-running. A quarter-hoss couldn't have beat +me to that shack. There I grabbed old Meat-in-the-pot and made a climb +for the tall country, aiming to wait around until dark, and then to +pull out for Benson. Johnny Hooper wasn't expected till next day, +which was lucky. From where I lay I could see the Apaches camped out +beyond my draw, and I didn't doubt they'd visited the place. Along +about sunset they all left their camp, and went into the draw, so +there, I thinks, I sees a good chance to make a start before dark. I +dropped down from the mesa, skirted the butte, and angled down across +the country. After I'd gone a half mile from the cliffs, I ran across +Johnny Hooper's fresh trail headed towards camp! +</P> + +<P> +My heart jumped right up into my mouth at that. Here was poor old +Johnny, a day too early, with a pack-mule of grub, walking innocent as +a yearling, right into the bands of those hostiles. The trail looked +pretty fresh, and Benson's a good long day with a pack animal, so I +thought perhaps I might catch him before he runs into trouble. So I +ran back on the trail as fast as I could make it. The sun was down by +now, and it was getting dusk. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't overtake him, and when I got to the top of the canon I crawled +along very cautious and took a look. Of course, I expected to see +everything up in smoke, but I nearly got up and yelled when I see +everything all right, and old Sukey, the pack-mule, and Johnny's hoss +hitched up as peaceful as babies to the corral. +</P> + +<P> +"THAT'S all right!" thinks I, "they're back in their camp, and haven't +discovered Johnny yet. I'll snail him out of there." +</P> + +<P> +So I ran down the hill and into the shack. Johnny sat in his +chair—what there was of him. He must have got in about two hours +before sundown, for they'd had lots of time to put in on him. That's +the reason they'd stayed so long up the draw. Poor old Johnny! I was +glad it was night, and he was dead. Apaches are the worst Injuns there +is for tortures. They cut off the bottoms of old man Wilkins's feet, +and stood him on an ant-hill—. +</P> + +<P> +In a minute or so, though, my wits gets to work. +</P> + +<P> +"Why ain't the shack burned?" I asks myself, "and why is the hoss and +the mule tied all so peaceful to the corral?" +</P> + +<P> +It didn't take long for a man who knows Injins to answer THOSE +conundrums. The whole thing was a trap—for me—and I'd walked into +it, chuckle-headed as a prairie-dog! +</P> + +<P> +With that I makes a run outside—by now it was dark—and listens. Sure +enough, I hears hosses. So I makes a rapid sneak back over the trail. +</P> + +<P> +Everything seemed all right till I got up to the rim-rock. Then I +heard more hosses—ahead of me. And when I looked back I could see +some Injuns already at the shack, and starting to build a fire outside. +</P> + +<P> +In a tight fix, a man is pretty apt to get scared till all hope is +gone. Then he is pretty apt to get cool and calm. That was my case. +I couldn't go ahead—there was those hosses coming along the trail. I +couldn't go back—there was those Injins building the fire. So I +skirmished around till I got a bright star right over the trail head, +and I trained old Meat-in-the-pot to bear on that star, and I made up +my mind that when the star was darkened I'd turn loose. So I lay there +a while listening. By and by the star was blotted out, and I cut +loose, and old Meat-in-the-pot missed fire—she never did it before nor +since; I think that cartridge— +</P> + +<P> +Well, I don't know where the Injins came from, but it seemed as if the +hammer had hardly clicked before three or four of them bad piled on me. +I put up the best fight I could, for I wasn't figuring to be caught +alive, and this miss-fire deal had fooled me all along the line. They +surely had a lively time. I expected every minute to feel a knife in +my back, but when I didn't get it then I knew they wanted to bring me +in alive, and that made me fight harder. First and last, we rolled and +plunged all the way from the rim-rock down to the canon-bed. Then one +of the Injins sung out: +</P> + +<P> +"Maria!" +</P> + +<P> +And I thought of that renegade Mexican, and what I'd heard bout him, +and that made me fight harder yet. +</P> + +<P> +But after we'd fought down to the canon-bed, and had lost most of our +skin, a half-dozen more fell on me, and in less than no time they had +me tied. Then they picked me up and carried me over to where they'd +built a big fire by the corral. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Uncle Jim stopped with an air of finality, and began lazily to refill +his pipe. From the open mud fireplace he picked a coal. Outside, the +rain, faithful to the prophecy of the wide-ringed sun, beat fitfully +against the roof. +</P> + +<P> +"That was the closest call I ever had," said he at last. +</P> + +<P> +"But, Uncle Jim," we cried in a confused chorus, "how did you get away? +What did the Indians do to you? Who rescued you?" +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Jim chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"The first man I saw sitting at that fire," said he, "was Lieutenant +Price of the United States Army, and by him was Tom Horn." +</P> + +<P> +"'What's this?' he asks, and Horn talks to the Injins in Apache. +</P> + +<P> +"'They say they've caught Maria,' translates Horn back again. +</P> + +<P> +"'Maria-nothing!' says Lieutenant Price. 'This is Jim Fox. I know him.'" +</P> + +<P> +"So they turned me loose. It seems the troops had driven off the +renegades an hour before." +</P> + +<P> +"And the Indians who caught you, Uncle Jim? You said they were +Indians." +</P> + +<P> +"Were Tonto Basin Apaches," explained the old man—"government scouts +under Tom Horn." +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] Pronounced "Hoo." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0102"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE EMIGRANTS +</H3> + +<P> +After the rain that had held us holed up at the Double R over one day, +we discussed what we should do next. +</P> + +<P> +"The flats will be too boggy for riding, and anyway the cattle will be +in the high country," the Cattleman summed up the situation. "We'd bog +down the chuck-wagon if we tried to get back to the J. H. But now +after the rain the weather ought to be beautiful. What shall we do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Was you ever in the Jackson country?" asked Uncle Jim. "It's the +wildest part of Arizona. It's a big country and rough, and no one +lives there, and there's lots of deer and mountain lions and bear. +Here's my dogs. We might have a hunt." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" said we. +</P> + +<P> +We skirmished around and found a condemned army pack saddle with +aparejos, and a sawbuck saddle with kyacks. On these, we managed to +condense our grub and utensils. There were plenty of horses, so our +bedding we bound flat about their naked barrels by means of the +squaw-hitch. Then we started. +</P> + +<P> +That day furnished us with a demonstration of what Arizona horses can +do. Our way led first through a canon-bed filled with rounded boulders +and rocks, slippery and unstable. Big cottonwoods and oaks grew so +thick as partially to conceal the cliffs on either side of us. The +rim-rock was mysterious with caves; beautiful with hanging gardens of +tree ferns and grasses growing thick in long transverse crevices; +wonderful in colour and shape. We passed the little canons fenced off +by the rustlers as corrals into which to shunt from the herds their +choice of beeves. +</P> + +<P> +The Cattleman shook his head at them. "Many a man has come from Texas +and established a herd with no other asset than a couple of horses and +a branding-iron," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Then we worked up gradually to a divide, whence we could see a range of +wild and rugged mountains on our right. They rose by slopes and +ledges, steep and rough, and at last ended in the thousand-foot cliffs +of the buttes, running sheer and unbroken for many miles. During all +the rest of our trip they were to be our companions, the only constant +factors in the tumult of lesser peaks, precipitous canons, and twisted +systems in which we were constantly involved. +</P> + +<P> +The sky was sun-and-shadow after the rain. Each and every Arizonan +predicted clearing. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it almost never rains in Arizona," said Jed Parker. "And when it +does it quits before it begins." +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless, about noon a thick cloud gathered about the tops of the +Galiuros above us. Almost immediately it was dissipated by the wind, +but when the peaks again showed, we stared with astonishment to see +that they were white with snow. It was as though a magician had passed +a sheet before them the brief instant necessary to work his great +transformation. Shortly the sky thickened again, and it began to rain. +</P> + +<P> +Travel had been precarious before; but now its difficulties were +infinitely increased. The clay sub-soil to the rubble turned slippery +and adhesive. On the sides of the mountains it was almost impossible +to keep a footing. We speedily became wet, our hands puffed and +purple, our boots sodden with the water that had trickled from our +clothing into them. +</P> + +<P> +"Over the next ridge," Uncle Jim promised us, "is an old shack that I +fixed up seven years ago. We can all make out to get in it." +</P> + +<P> +Over the next ridge, therefore, we slipped and slid, thanking the god +of luck for each ten feet gained. It was growing cold. The cliffs and +palisades near at hand showed dimly behind the falling rain; beyond +them waved and eddied the storm mists through which the mountains +revealed and concealed proportions exaggerated into unearthly grandeur. +Deep in the clefts of the box canons the streams were filling. The +roar of their rapids echoed from innumerable precipices. A soft swish +of water usurped the world of sound. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing more uncomfortable or more magnificent could be imagined. We +rode shivering. Each said to himself, "I can stand this—right now—at +the present moment. Very well; I will do so, and I will refuse to look +forward even five minutes to what I may have to stand," which is the +true philosophy of tough times and the only effective way to endure +discomfort. +</P> + +<P> +By luck we reached the bottom of that canon without a fall. It was +wide, well grown with oak trees, and belly deep in rich horse feed—an +ideal place to camp were it not for the fact that a thin sheet of water +a quarter of an inch deep was flowing over the entire surface of the +ground. We spurred on desperately, thinking of a warm fire and a +chance to steam. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The roof of the shack had fallen in, and the floor was six inches deep +in adobe mud. +</P> + +<P> +We did not dismount—that would have wet our saddles—but sat on our +horses taking in the details. Finally Uncle Jim came to the front with +a suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"I know of a cave," said he, "close under a butte. It's a big cave, +but it has such a steep floor that I'm not sure as we could stay in it; +and it's back the other side of that ridge." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how the ridge is to get back over—it was slippery enough +coming this way—and the cave may shoot us out into space, but I'd like +to LOOK at a dry place anyway," replied the Cattleman. +</P> + +<P> +We all felt the same about it, so back over the ridge we went. About +half way down the other side Uncle Jim turned sharp to the right, and +as the "hog back" dropped behind us, we found ourselves out on the +steep side of a mountain, the perpendicular cliff over us to the right, +the river roaring savagely far down below our left, and sheets of water +glazing the footing we could find among the boulders and debris. +Hardly could the ponies keep from slipping sideways on the slope, as we +proceeded farther and farther from the solidity of the ridge behind us, +we experienced the illusion of venturing out on a tight rope over +abysses of space. Even the feeling of danger was only an illusion, +however, composite of the falling rain, the deepening twilight, and the +night that had already enveloped the plunge of the canon below. +Finally Uncle Jim stopped just within the drip from the cliffs. +</P> + +<P> +"Here she is," said he. +</P> + +<P> +We descended eagerly. A deer bounded away from the base of the buttes. +The cave ran steep, in the manner of an inclined tunnel, far up into +the dimness. We had to dig our toes in and scramble to make way up it +at all, but we found it dry, and after a little search discovered a +foot-ledge of earth sufficiently broad for a seat. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," quoth Jed Parker. "Now, for sleeping places." +</P> + +<P> +We scattered. Uncle Jim and Charley promptly annexed the slight +overhang of the cliff whence the deer had jumped. It was dry at the +moment, but we uttered pessimistic predictions if the wind should +change. Tom Rich and Jim Lester had a little tent, and insisted on +descending to the canon-bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Got to cook there, anyways," said they, and departed with the two pack +mules and their bed horse. +</P> + +<P> +That left the Cattleman, Windy Bill, Jed Parker, and me. In a moment +Windy Bill came up to us whispering and mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +"Get your cavallos and follow me," said he. +</P> + +<P> +We did so. He led us two hundred yards to another cave, twenty feet +high, fifteen feet in diameter, level as a floor. +</P> + +<P> +"How's that?" he cried in triumph. "Found her just now while I was +rustling nigger-heads for a fire." +</P> + +<P> +We unpacked our beds with chuckles of joy, and spread them carefully +within the shelter of the cave. Except for the very edges, which did +not much matter, our blankets and "so-guns," protected by the canvas +"tarp," were reasonably dry. Every once in a while a spasm of +conscience would seize one or the other of us. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems sort of mean on the other fellows," ruminated Jed Parker. +</P> + +<P> +"They had their first choice," cried we all. +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Jim's an old man," the Cattleman pointed out. +</P> + +<P> +But Windy Bill had thought of that. "I told him of this yere cave +first. But he allowed he was plumb satisfied." +</P> + +<P> +We finished laying out our blankets. The result looked good to us. We +all burst out laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm sorry for those fellows," cried the Cattleman. We hobbled +our horses and descended to the gleam of the fire, like guilty +conspirators. There we ate hastily of meat, bread and coffee, merely +for the sake of sustenance. It certainly amounted to little in the way +of pleasure. The water from the direct rain, the shivering trees, and +our hat brims accumulated in our plates faster than we could bail it +out. The dishes were thrust under a canvas. Rich and Lester decided +to remain with their tent, and so we saw them no more until morning. +</P> + +<P> +We broke off back-loads of mesquite and toiled up the hill, tasting +thickly the high altitude in the severe labour. At the big cave we +dumped down our burdens, transported our fuel piecemeal to the vicinity +of the narrow ledge, built a good fire, sat in a row, and lit our +pipes. In a few moments, the blaze was burning high, and our bodies +had ceased shivering. Fantastically the firelight revealed the knobs +and crevices, the ledges and the arching walls. Their shadows leaped, +following the flames, receding and advancing like playful beasts. Far +above us was a single tiny opening through which the smoke was sucked +as through a chimney. The glow ruddied the men's features. Outside +was thick darkness, and the swish and rush and roar of rising waters. +Listening, Windy Bill was reminded of a story. We leaned back +comfortably against the sloping walls of the cave, thrust our feet +toward the blaze, smoked, and hearkened to the tale of Windy Bill. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +There's a tur'ble lot of water running loose here, but I've seen the +time and place where even what is in that drip would be worth a gold +mine. That was in the emigrant days. They used to come over south of +here, through what they called Emigrant Pass, on their way to +Californy. I was a kid then, about eighteen year old, and what I didn't +know about Injins and Agency cattle wasn't a patch of alkali. I had a +kid outfit of h'ar bridle, lots of silver and such, and I used to ride +over and be the handsome boy before such outfits as happened along. +</P> + +<P> +They were queer people, most of 'em from Missoury and such-like +southern seaports, and they were tur'ble sick of travel by the time +they come in sight of Emigrant Pass. Up to Santa Fe they mostly hiked +along any old way, but once there they herded up together in bunches of +twenty wagons or so, 'count of our old friends, Geronimo and Loco. A +good many of 'em had horned cattle to their wagons, and they crawled +along about two miles an hour, hotter'n hell with the blower on, +nothin' to look at but a mountain a week way, chuck full of alkali, +plenty of sage-brush and rattlesnakes—but mighty little water. +</P> + +<P> +Why, you boys know that country down there. Between the Chiricahua +Mountains and Emigrant Pass it's maybe a three or four days' journey +for these yere bull-slingers. +</P> + +<P> +Mostly they filled up their bellies and their kegs, hoping to last +through, but they sure found it drier than cork legs, and generally +long before they hit the Springs their tongues was hangin' out a foot. +You see, for all their plumb nerve in comin' so far, the most of them +didn't know sic 'em. They were plumb innocent in regard to savin' +their water, and Injins, and such; and the long-haired buckskin fakes +they picked up at Santa Fe for guides wasn't much better. +</P> + +<P> +That was where Texas Pete made his killing. +</P> + +<P> +Texas Pete was a tough citizen from the Lone Star. He was about as +broad as he was long, and wore all sorts of big whiskers and black +eyebrows. His heart was very bad. You never COULD tell where Texas +Pete was goin' to jump next. He was a side-winder and a diamond-back +and a little black rattlesnake all rolled into one. I believe that +Texas Pete person cared about as little for killin' a man as for takin' +a drink—and he shorely drank without an effort. Peaceable citizens +just spoke soft and minded their own business; onpeaceable citizens +Texas Pete used to plant out in the sagebrush. +</P> + +<P> +Now this Texas Pete happened to discover a water hole right out in the +plumb middle of the desert. He promptly annexed said water hole, digs +her out, timbers her up, and lays for emigrants. +</P> + +<P> +He charged two bits a head—man or beast—and nobody got a mouthful +till he paid up in hard coin. +</P> + +<P> +Think of the wads he raked in! I used to figure it up, just for the +joy of envyin' him, I reckon. An average twenty-wagon outfit, first +and last, would bring him in somewheres about fifty dollars—and +besides he had forty-rod at four bits a glass. And outfits at that +time were thicker'n spatter. +</P> + +<P> +We used all to go down sometimes to watch them come in. When they see +that little canvas shack and that well, they begun to cheer up and move +fast. And when they see that sign, "Water, two bits a head," their +eyes stuck out like two raw oysters. +</P> + +<P> +Then come the kicks. What a howl they did raise, shorely. But it +didn't do no manner of good. Texas Pete didn't do nothin' but sit +there and smoke, with a kind of sulky gleam in one corner of his eye. +He didn't even take the trouble to answer, but his Winchester lay +across his lap. There wasn't no humour in the situation for him. +</P> + +<P> +"How much is your water for humans?" asks one emigrant. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you read that sign?" Texas Pete asks him. +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't mean two bits a head for HUMANS!" yells the man. "Why, +you can get whisky for that!" +</P> + +<P> +"You can read the sign, can't you?" insists Texas Pete. +</P> + +<P> +"I can read it all right?" says the man, tryin' a new deal, "but they +tell me not to believe more'n half I read." +</P> + +<P> +But that don't go; and Mr. Emigrant shells out with the rest. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't blame them for raisin' their howl. Why, at that time the +regular water holes was chargin' five cents a head from the government +freighters, and the motto was always "Hold up Uncle Sam," at that. +Once in a while some outfit would get mad and go chargin' off dry; but +it was a long, long way to the Springs, and mighty hot and dusty. +Texas Pete and his one lonesome water hole shorely did a big business. +</P> + +<P> +Late one afternoon me and Gentleman Tim was joggin' along above Texas +Pete's place. It was a tur'ble hot day—you had to prime yourself to +spit—and we was just gettin' back from drivin' some beef up to the +troops at Fort Huachuca. We was due to cross the Emigrant Trail—she's +wore in tur'ble deep—you can see the ruts to-day. When we topped the +rise we see a little old outfit just makin' out to drag along. +</P> + +<P> +It was one little schooner all by herself, drug along by two poor old +cavallos that couldn't have pulled my hat off. Their tongues was out, +and every once in a while they'd stick in a chuck-hole. Then a man +would get down and put his shoulder to the wheel, and everybody'd take +a heave, and up they'd come, all a-trembling and weak. +</P> + +<P> +Tim and I rode down just to take a look at the curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +A thin-lookin' man was drivin', all humped up. +</P> + +<P> +"Hullo, stranger," says I, "ain't you 'fraid of Injins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why are you travellin' through an Injin country all alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't keep up," says he. "Can I get water here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon," I answers. +</P> + +<P> +He drove up to the water trough there at Texas Pete's, me and Gentleman +Tim followin' along because our trail led that way. But he hadn't +more'n stopped before Texas Pete was out. +</P> + +<P> +"Cost you four bits to water them hosses," says he. +</P> + +<P> +The man looked up kind of bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," says he, "I ain't got no four bits. I got my roll lifted +off'n me." +</P> + +<P> +"No water, then," growls Texas Pete back at him. +</P> + +<P> +The man looked about him helpless. +</P> + +<P> +"How far is it to the next water?" he asks me. +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty mile," I tells him. +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" he says, to himself-like. +</P> + +<P> +Then he shrugged his shoulders very tired. +</P> + +<P> +"All right. It's gettin' the cool of the evenin'; we'll make it." He +turns into the inside of that old schooner. +</P> + +<P> +"Gi' me the cup, Sue." +</P> + +<P> +A white-faced woman who looked mighty good to us alkalis opened the +flaps and gave out a tin cup, which the man pointed out to fill. +</P> + +<P> +"How many of you is they?" asks Texas Pete. +</P> + +<P> +"Three," replies the man, wondering. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, six bits, then," says Texas Pete, "cash down." +</P> + +<P> +At that the man straightens up a little. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't askin' for no water for my stock," says he, "but my wife and +baby has been out in this sun all day without a drop of water. Our +cask slipped a hoop and bust just this side of Dos Cabesas. The poor +kid is plumb dry." +</P> + +<P> +"Two bits a head," says Texas Pete. +</P> + +<P> +At that the woman comes out, a little bit of a baby in her arms. The +kid had fuzzy yellow hair, and its face was flushed red and shiny. +</P> + +<P> +"Shorely you won't refuse a sick child a drink of water, sir," says she. +</P> + +<P> +But Texas Pete had some sort of a special grouch; I guess he was just +beginning to get his snowshoes off after a fight with his own forty-rod. +</P> + +<P> +"What the hell are you-all doin' on the trail without no money at all?" +he growls, "and how do you expect to get along? Such plumb tenderfeet +drive me weary." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says the man, still reasonable, "I ain't got no money, but I'll +give you six bits' worth of flour or trade or an'thin' I got." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't run no truck-store," snaps Texas Pete, and turns square on his +heel and goes back to his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Got six bits about you?" whispers Gentleman Tim to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a red," I answers. +</P> + +<P> +Gentleman Tim turns to Texas Pete. +</P> + +<P> +"Let 'em have a drink, Pete. I'll pay you next time I come down." +</P> + +<P> +"Cash down," growls Pete. +</P> + +<P> +"You're the meanest man I ever see," observes Tim. "I wouldn't speak +to you if I met you in hell carryin' a lump of ice in your hand." +</P> + +<P> +"You're the softest <I>I</I> ever see," sneers Pete. "Don't they have any +genooine Texans down your way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not enough to make it disagreeable," says Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"That lets you out," growls Pete, gettin' hostile and handlin' of his +rifle. +</P> + +<P> +Which the man had been standin' there bewildered, the cup hangin' from +his finger. At last, lookin' pretty desperate, he stooped down to dig +up a little of the wet from an overflow puddle lyin' at his feet. At +the same time the hosses, left sort of to themselves and bein' drier +than a covered bridge, drug forward and stuck their noses in the trough. +</P> + +<P> +Gentleman Tim and me was sittin' there on our hosses, a little to one +side. We saw Texas Pete jump up from his chair, take a quick aim, and +cut loose with his rifle. It was plumb unexpected to us. We hadn't +thought of any shootin', and our six-shooters was tied in, 'count of +the jumpy country we'd been drivin' the steers over. But Gentleman +Tim, who had unslung his rope, aimin' to help the hosses out of the +chuckhole, snatched her off the horn, and with one of the prettiest +twenty-foot flip throws I ever see done he snaked old Texas Pete right +out of his wicky-up, gun and all. The old renegade did his best to +twist around for a shot at us; but it was no go; and I never enjoyed +hog-tying a critter more in my life than I enjoyed hog-tying Texas +Pete. Then we turned to see what damage had been done. +</P> + +<P> +We were some relieved to find the family all right, but Texas Pete had +bored one of them poor old crow-bait hosses plumb through the head. +</P> + +<P> +"It's lucky for you you don't get the old man," says Gentleman Tim very +quiet and polite. +</P> + +<P> +Which Gentleman Tim was an Irishman, and I'd been on the range long +enough with him to know that when he got quiet and polite it was time +to dodge behind something. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope, sir" says he to the stranger, "that you will give your wife +and baby a satisfying drink. As for your hoss, pray do not be under +any apprehension. Our friend, Mr. Texas Pete, here, has kindly +consented to make good any deficiencies from his own corral." +</P> + +<P> +Tim could talk high, wide, and handsome when he set out to. +</P> + +<P> +The man started to say something; but I managed to herd him to one side. +</P> + +<P> +"Let him alone," I whispers. "When he talks that way, he's mad; and +when he's mad, it's better to leave nature to supply the lightnin' +rods." +</P> + +<P> +He seemed to sabe all right, so we built us a little fire and started +some grub, while Gentleman Tim walked up and down very grand and fierce. +</P> + +<P> +By and by he seemed to make up his mind. He went over and untied Texas +Pete. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand up, you hound," says he. "Now listen to me. If you make a +break to get away, or if you refuse to do just as I tell you, I won't +shoot you, but I'll march you up country and see that Geronimo gets +you." +</P> + +<P> +He sorted out a shovel and pick, made Texas Pete carry them right along +the trail a quarter, and started him to diggin' a hole. +</P> + +<P> +Texas Pete started in hard enough, Tim sittin' over him on his hoss, +his six-shooter loose, and his rope free. The man and I stood by, not +darin' to say a word. After a minute or so Texas Pete began to work +slower and slower. By and by he stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," says he, "is this here thing my grave?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am goin' to see that you give the gentleman's hoss decent +interment," says Gentleman Tim very polite. +</P> + +<P> +"Bury a hoss!" growls Texas Pete. +</P> + +<P> +But he didn't say any more. Tim cocked his six-shooter. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you'd better quit panting and sweat a little," says he. +</P> + +<P> +Texas Pete worked hard for a while, for Tim's quietness was beginning +to scare him up the worst way. By and by he had got down maybe four or +five feet, and Tim got off his hoss. +</P> + +<P> +"I think that will do," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"You may come out. Billy, my son, cover him. Now, Mr. Texas Pete," he +says, cold as steel, "there is the grave. We will place the hoss in +it. Then I intend to shoot you and put you in with the hoss, and write +you an epitaph that will be a comfort to such travellers of the Trail +as are honest, and a warnin' to such as are not. I'd as soon kill you +now as an hour from now, so you may make a break for it if you feel +like it." +</P> + +<P> +He stooped over to look into the hole. I thought he looked an extra +long time, but when he raised his head his face had changed complete. +</P> + +<P> +"March!" says he very brisk. +</P> + +<P> +We all went back to the shack. From the corral Tim took Texas Pete's +best team and hitched her to the old schooner. +</P> + +<P> +"There," says he to the man. "Now you'd better hit the trail. Take +that whisky keg there for water. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +We sat there without sayin' a word for some time after the schooner had +pulled out. Then Tim says, very abrupt: +</P> + +<P> +"I've changed my mind." +</P> + +<P> +He got up. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Billy," says he to me. "We'll just leave our friend tied up. +I'll be back to-morrow to turn you loose. In the meantime it won't +hurt you a bit to be a little uncomfortable, and hungry—and thirsty." +</P> + +<P> +We rode off just about sundown, leavin' Texas Pete lashed tight. +</P> + +<P> +Now all this knocked me hell-west and crooked, and I said so, but I +couldn't get a word out of Gentleman Tim. All the answer I could get +was just little laughs. +</P> + +<P> +We drawed into the ranch near midnight, but next mornin' Tim had a long +talk with the boss, and the result was that the whole outfit was +instructed to arm up with a pick or a shovel apiece, and to get set for +Texas Pete's. We got there a little after noon, turned the old boy +out—without firearms—and then began to dig at a place Tim told us to, +near that grave of Texas Pete's. In three hours we had the finest +water-hole developed you ever want to see. Then the boss stuck up a +sign that said: +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 7em">PUBLIC WATER-HOLE. WATER, FREE.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Now you old skin," says he to Texas Pete, "charge all you want to on +your own property. But if I ever hear of your layin' claim to this +other hole, I'll shore make you hard to catch." +</P> + +<P> +Then we rode off home. You see, when Gentleman Tim inspected that +grave, he noted indications of water; and it struck him that runnin' +the old renegade out of business was a neater way of gettin' even than +merely killin' him. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Somebody threw a fresh mesquite on the fire. The flames leaped up +again, showing a thin trickle of water running down the other side of +the cave. The steady downpour again made itself prominent through the +re-established silence. +</P> + +<P> +"What did Texas Pete do after that?" asked the Cattleman. +</P> + +<P> +"Texas Pete?" chuckled Windy Bill. "Well, he put in a heap of his +spare time lettin' Tim alone." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0103"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THREE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE REMITTANCE MAN +</H3> + +<P> +After Windy Bill had finished his story we began to think it time to +turn in. Uncle Jim and Charley slid and slipped down the chute-like +passage leading from the cave and disappeared in the direction of the +overhang beneath which they had spread their bed. After a moment we +tore off long bundles of the nigger-head blades, lit the resinous ends +at our fire, and with these torches started to make our way along the +base of the cliff to the other cave. +</P> + +<P> +Once without the influence of the fire our impromptu links cast an +adequate light. The sheets of rain became suddenly visible as they +entered the circle of illumination. By careful scrutiny of the footing +I gained the entrance to our cave without mishap. I looked back. Here +and there irregularly gleamed and spluttered my companions' torches. +Across each slanted the rain. All else was of inky blackness except +where, between them and me, a faint red reflection shone on the wet +rocks. Then I turned inside. +</P> + +<P> +Now, to judge from the crumbling powder of the footing, that cave had +been dry since Noah. In fact, its roof was nearly a thousand feet +thick. But since we had spread our blankets, the persistent waters had +soaked down and through. The thousand-foot roof had a sprung a leak. +Three separate and distinct streams of water ran as from spigots. I +lowered my torch. The canvas tarpaulin shone with wet, and in its +exact centre glimmered a pool of water three inches deep and at least +two feet in diameter. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll be," I began. Then I remembered those three wending their +way along a wet and disagreeable trail, happy and peaceful in +anticipation of warm blankets and a level floor. I chuckled and sat on +my heels out of the drip. +</P> + +<P> +First came Jed Parker, his head bent to protect the fire in his pipe. +He gained the very centre of the cave before he looked up. +</P> + +<P> +Then he cast one glance at each bed, and one at me. His grave, +hawk-like features relaxed. A faint grin appeared under his long +moustache. Without a word he squatted down beside me. +</P> + +<P> +Next the Cattleman. He looked about him with a comical expression of +dismay, and burst into a hearty laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe I said I was sorry for those other fellows," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +Windy Bill was the last. He stooped his head to enter, straightened +his lank figure, and took in the situation without expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, this is handy," said he; "I was gettin' tur'ble dry, and was +thinkin' I would have to climb way down to the creek in all this rain." +</P> + +<P> +He stooped to the pool in the centre of the tarpaulin and drank. +</P> + +<P> +But now our torches began to run low. A small dry bush grew near the +entrance. We ignited it, and while it blazed we hastily sorted a +blanket apiece and tumbled the rest out of the drip. +</P> + +<P> +Our return without torches along the base of that butte was something +to remember. The night was so thick you could feel the darkness +pressing on you; the mountain dropped abruptly to the left, and was +strewn with boulders and blocks of stone. Collisions and stumbles were +frequent. Once I stepped off a little ledge five or six feet—nothing +worse than a barked shin. And all the while the rain, pelting us +unmercifully, searched out what poor little remnants of dryness we had +been able to retain. +</P> + +<P> +At last we opened out the gleam of fire in our cave, and a minute later +were engaged in struggling desperately up the slant that brought us to +our ledge and the slope on which our fire burned. +</P> + +<P> +"My Lord!" panted Windy Bill, "a man had ought to have hooks on his +eyebrows to climb up here!" +</P> + +<P> +We renewed the fire—and blessed the back-load of mesquite we had +packed up earlier in the evening. Our blankets we wrapped around our +shoulders, our feet we hung over the ledge toward the blaze, our backs +we leaned against the hollow slant of the cave's wall. We were not +uncomfortable. The beat of the rain sprang up in the darkness, growing +louder and louder, like horsemen passing on a hard road. Gradually we +dozed off. +</P> + +<P> +For a time everything was pleasant. Dreams came fused with realities; +the firelight faded from consciousness or returned fantastic to our +half-awakening; a delicious numbness overspread our tired bodies. The +shadows leaped, became solid, monstrous. We fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +After a time the fact obtruded itself dimly through our stupor that the +constant pressure of the hard rock had impeded our circulation. We +stirred uneasily, shifting to a better position. +</P> + +<P> +That was the beginning of awakening. The new position did not suit. A +slight shivering seized us, which the drawing closer of the blanket +failed to end. Finally I threw aside my hat and looked out. Jed +Parker, a vivid patch-work comforter wrapped about his shoulders, stood +upright and silent by the fire. I kept still, fearing to awaken the +others. In a short time I became aware that the others were doing +identically the same thing. We laughed, threw off our blankets, +stretched, and fed the fire. +</P> + +<P> +A thick acrid smoke filled the air. The Cattleman, rising, left a +trail of incandescent footprints. We investigated hastily, and +discovered that the supposed earth on the slant of the cave was nothing +more than bat guano, tons of it. The fire, eating its way beneath, had +rendered untenable its immediate vicinity. We felt as though we were +living over a volcano. How soon our ledge, of the same material, might +be attacked, we had no means of knowing. Overcome with drowsiness, we +again disposed our blankets, resolved to get as many naps as possible +before even these constrained quarters were taken from us. +</P> + +<P> +This happened sooner and in a manner otherwise than we had expected. +Windy Bill brought us to consciousness by a wild yell. +</P> + +<P> +Consciousness reported to us a strange, hurried sound like the long +roll on a drum. Investigation showed us that this cave, too, had +sprung a leak; not with any premonitory drip, but all at once, as +though someone had turned on a faucet. In ten seconds a very competent +streamlet six inches wide had eroded a course down through the guano, +past the fire and to the outer slope. And by the irony of fate that +one—and only one—leak in all the roof expanse of a big cave was +directly over one end of our tiny ledge. The Cattleman laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Reminds me of the old farmer and his kind friend," said he. "Kind +friend hunts up the old farmer in the village. +</P> + +<P> +"'John,' says he, 'I've bad news for you. Your barn has burned up.' +</P> + +<P> +"'My Lord!' says the farmer. +</P> + +<P> +"'But that ain't the worst. Your cow was burned, too.' +</P> + +<P> +"'My Lord!' says the farmer. +</P> + +<P> +"'But that ain't the worst. Your horses were burned.' +</P> + +<P> +"'My Lord!' says the farmer. +</P> + +<P> +"'But, that ain't the worst. The barn set fire to the house, and it +was burned—total loss.' +</P> + +<P> +"'My Lord!' groans the farmer. +</P> + +<P> +"'But that ain't the worst. Your wife and child were killed, too.' +</P> + +<P> +"'At that the farmer began to roar with laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"'Good heavens, man!' cries his friend, astonished, 'what in the world +do you find to laugh at in that?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Don't you see?' answers the farmer. 'Why, it's so darn COMPLETE!' +</P> + +<P> +"Well," finished the Cattleman, "that's what strikes me about our case; +it's so darn complete!" +</P> + +<P> +"What time is it?" asked Windy Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Midnight," I announced. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord! Six hours to day!" groaned Windy Bill. "How'd you like to be +doin' a nice quiet job at gardenin' in the East where you could belly +up to the bar reg'lar every evenin', and drink a pussy cafe and smoke +tailor-made cigareets?" +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't like it a bit," put in the Cattleman with decision; +whereupon in proof he told us the following story: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Windy has mentioned Gentleman Tim, and that reminded me of the first +time I ever saw him. He was an Irishman all right, but he had been +educated in England, and except for his accent he was more an +Englishman than anything else. A freight outfit brought him into +Tucson from Santa Fe and dumped him down on the plaza, where at once +every idler in town gathered to quiz him. +</P> + +<P> +Certainly he was one of the greenest specimens I ever saw in this +country. He had on a pair of balloon pants and a Norfolk jacket, and +was surrounded by a half-dozen baby trunks. His face was red-cheeked +and aggressively clean, and his eye limpid as a child's. Most of those +present thought that indicated childishness; but I could see that it +was only utter self-unconsciousness. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed that he was out for big game, and intended to go after +silver-tips somewhere in these very mountains. Of course he was +offered plenty of advice, and would probably have made engagements much +to be regretted had I not taken a strong fancy to him. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend," said I, drawing him aside, "I don't want to be +inquisitive, but what might you do when you're home?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a younger son," said he. I was green myself in those days, and +knew nothing of primogeniture. +</P> + +<P> +"That is a very interesting piece of family history," said I, "but it +does not answer my question." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Well now, I hadn't thought of that," said he, "but in a manner of +speaking, it does. I do nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said I, unabashed, "if you saw me trying to be a younger son +and likely to forget myself and do something without meaning to, +wouldn't you be apt to warn me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, 'pon honour, you're a queer chap. What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that if you hire any of those men to guide you in the +mountains, you'll be outrageously cheated, and will be lucky if you're +not gobbled by Apaches." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you do any guiding yourself, now?" he asked, most innocent of +manner. +</P> + +<P> +But I flared up. +</P> + +<P> +"You damn ungrateful pup," I said, "go to the devil in your own way," +and turned square on my heel. +</P> + +<P> +But the young man was at my elbow, his hand on my shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say now, I'm sorry. I didn't rightly understand. Do wait one +moment until I dispose of these boxes of mine, and then I want the +honour of your further acquaintance." +</P> + +<P> +He got some Greasers to take his trunks over to the hotel, then linked +his arm in mine most engagingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, my dear chap," said he, "let's go somewhere for a B & S, and find +out about each other." +</P> + +<P> +We were both young and expansive. We exchanged views, names, and +confidences, and before noon we had arranged to hunt together, I to +collect the outfit. +</P> + +<P> +The upshot of the matter was that the Honourable Timothy Clare and I +had a most excellent month's excursion, shot several good bear, and +returned to Tucson the best of friends. +</P> + +<P> +At Tucson was Schiefflein and his stories of a big strike down in the +Apache country. Nothing would do but that we should both go to see for +ourselves. We joined the second expedition; crept in the gullies, tied +bushes about ourselves when monumenting corners, and so helped +establish the town of Tombstone. We made nothing, nor attempted to. +Neither of us knew anything of mining, but we were both thirsty for +adventure, and took a schoolboy delight in playing the game of life or +death with the Chiricahuas. +</P> + +<P> +In fact, I never saw anybody take to the wild life as eagerly as the +Honourable Timothy Clare. He wanted to attempt everything. With him +it was no sooner see than try, and he had such an abundance of +enthusiasm that he generally succeeded. The balloon pants soon went. +In a month his outfit was irreproachable. He used to study us by the +hour, taking in every detail of our equipment, from the smallest to the +most important. Then he asked questions. For all his desire to be one +of the country, he was never ashamed to acknowledge his ignorance. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, don't you chaps think it silly to wear such high heels to your +boots?" he would ask. "It seems to me a very useless sort of vanity." +</P> + +<P> +"No vanity about it, Tim," I explained. "In the first place, it keeps +your foot from slipping through the stirrup. In the second place, it +is good to grip on the ground when you're roping afoot." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, that's true!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +So he'd get him a pair of boots. For a while it was enough to wear and +own all these things. He seemed to delight in his six-shooter and his +rope just as ornaments to himself and horse. But he soon got over +that. Then he had to learn to use them. +</P> + +<P> +For the time being, pistol practice, for instance, would absorb all his +thoughts. He'd bang away at intervals all day, and figure out new +theories all night. +</P> + +<P> +"That bally scheme won't work," he would complain. "I believe if I +extended my thumb along the cylinder it would help that side jump." +</P> + +<P> +He was always easing the trigger-pull, or filing the sights. In time +he got to be a fairly accurate and very quick shot. +</P> + +<P> +The same way with roping and hog-tying and all the rest. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use?" I used to ask him. "If you were going to be a +buckeroo, you couldn't go into harder training." +</P> + +<P> +"I like it," was always his answer. +</P> + +<P> +He had only one real vice, that I could see. He would gamble. Stud +poker was his favourite; and I never saw a Britisher yet who could play +poker. I used to head him off, when I could, and he was always +grateful, but the passion was strong. +</P> + +<P> +After we got back from founding Tombstone I was busted and had to go to +work. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got plenty," said Tim, "and it's all yours." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, old fellow," I told him, "but your money wouldn't do for me." +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson was just seeing his chance then, and was preparing to take +some breeding cattle over into the Soda Springs Valley. Everybody +laughed at him—said it was right in the line of the Chiricahua raids, +which was true. But Buck had been in there with Agency steers, and +thought he knew. So he collected a trail crew, brought some Oregon +cattle across, and built his home ranch of three-foot adobe walls with +portholes. I joined the trail crew; and somehow or another the +Honourable Timothy got permission to go along on his own hook. +</P> + +<P> +The trail was a long one. We had thirst and heat and stampedes and +some Indian scares. But in the queer atmospheric conditions that +prevailed that summer, I never saw the desert more wonderful. It was +like waking to the glory of God to sit up at dawn and see the colours +change on the dry ranges. +</P> + +<P> +At the home ranch, again, Tim managed to get permission to stay on. He +kept his own mount of horses, took care of them, hunted, and took part +in all the cow work. We lost some cattle from Indians, of course, but +it was too near the Reservation for them to do more than pick up a few +stray head on their way through. The troops were always after them +full jump, and so they never had time to round up the beef. But of +course we had to look out or we'd lose our hair, and many a cowboy has +won out to the home ranch in an almighty exciting race. This was nuts +for the Honourable Timothy Clare, much better than hunting silver-tips, +and he enjoyed it no limit. +</P> + +<P> +Things went along that way for some time, until one evening as I was +turning out the horses a buckboard drew in, and from it descended Tony +Briggs and a dapper little fellow dressed all in black and with a plug +hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Which I accounts for said hat reachin' the ranch, because it's Friday +and the boys not in town," Tony whispered to me. +</P> + +<P> +As I happened to be the only man in sight, the stranger addressed me. +</P> + +<P> +"I am looking," said he in a peculiar, sing-song manner I have since +learned to be English, "for the Honourable Timothy Clare. Is he here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you're looking for him are you?" said I. "And who might you be?" +</P> + +<P> +You see, I liked Tim, and I didn't intend to deliver him over into +trouble. +</P> + +<P> +The man picked a pair of eye-glasses off his stomach where they dangled +at the end of a chain, perched them on his nose, and stared me over. I +must have looked uncompromising, for after a few seconds he abruptly +wrinkled his nose so that the glasses fell promptly to his stomach +again, felt his waistcoat pocket, and produced a card. I took it, and +read: +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 5.5em">JEFFRIES CASE, Barrister.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +"A lawyer!" said I suspiciously. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear man," he rejoined with a slight impatience, "I am not here to +do your young friend a harm. In fact, my firm have been his family +solicitors for generations." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," I agreed, and led the way to the one-room adobe that Tim +and I occupied. +</P> + +<P> +If I had expected an enthusiastic greeting for the boyhood friend from +the old home, I would have been disappointed. Tim was sitting with his +back to the door reading an old magazine. When we entered he glanced +over his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Case," said he, and went on reading. After a moment he said +without looking up, "Sit down." +</P> + +<P> +The little man took it calmly, deposited himself in a chair and his bag +between his feet, and looked about him daintily at our rough quarters. +I made a move to go, whereupon Tim laid down his magazine, yawned, +stretched his arms over his head, and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go, Harry," he begged. "Well, Case," he addressed the +barrister, "what is it this time? Must be something devilish important +to bring you—how many thousand miles is it—into such a country as +this." +</P> + +<P> +"It is important, Mr. Clare," stated the lawyer in his dry sing-song +tones; "but my journey might have been avoided had you paid some +attention to my letters." +</P> + +<P> +"Letters!" repeated Tim, opening his eyes. "My dear chap, I've had no +letters." +</P> + +<P> +"Addressed as usual to your New York bankers." +</P> + +<P> +Tim laughed softly. "Where they are, with my last two quarters' +allowance. I especially instructed them to send me no mail. One +spends no money in this country." He paused, pulling his moustache. +"I'm truly sorry you had to come so far," he continued, "and if your +business is, as I suspect, the old one of inducing me to return to my +dear uncle's arms, I assure you the mission will prove quite fruitless. +Uncle Hillary and I could never live in the same county, let alone the +same house." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet your uncle, the Viscount Mar, was very fond of you," ventured +Case. "Your allowances—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I grant you his generosity in MONEY affairs—" +</P> + +<P> +"He has continued that generosity in the terms of his will, and those +terms I am here to communicate to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle Hillary is dead!" cried Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"He passed away the sixteenth of last June." +</P> + +<P> +A slight pause ensued. +</P> + +<P> +"I am ready to hear you," said Tim soberly, at last. +</P> + +<P> +The barrister stooped and began to fumble with his bag. +</P> + +<P> +"No, not that!" cried Tim, with some impatience. "Tell me in your own +words." +</P> + +<P> +The lawyer sat back and pressed his finger points together over his +stomach. +</P> + +<P> +"The late Viscount," said he, "has been graciously pleased to leave you +in fee simple his entire estate of Staghurst, together with its +buildings, rentals, and privileges. This, besides the residential +rights, amounts to some ten thousands pounds sterling per annum." +</P> + +<P> +"A little less than fifty thousand dollars a year, Harry," Tim shot +over his shoulder at me. +</P> + +<P> +"There is one condition," put in the lawyer. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there is!" exclaimed Tim, his crest falling. "Well, knowing my +Uncle Hillary—" +</P> + +<P> +"The condition is not extravagant," the lawyer hastily interposed. "It +merely entails continued residence in England, and a minimum of nine +months on the estate. This provision is absolute, and the estate +reverts in its discontinuance, but may I be permitted to observe that +the majority of men, myself among the number, are content to spend the +most of their lives, not merely in the confines of a kingdom, but +between the four walls of a room, for much less than ten thousand +pounds a year. Also that England is not without its attractions for an +Englishman, and that Staghurst is a country place of many +possibilities." +</P> + +<P> +The Honourable Timothy had recovered from his first surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"And if the conditions are not complied with?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Then the estate reverts to the heirs at law, and you receive an +annuity of one hundred pounds, payable quarterly." +</P> + +<P> +"May I ask further the reason for this extraordinary condition?" +</P> + +<P> +"My distinguished client never informed me," replied the lawyer, +"but"—and a twinkle appeared in his eye—"as an occasional disburser +of funds—Monte Carlo—" +</P> + +<P> +Tim burst out laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but I recognise Uncle Hillary there!" he cried. "Well, Mr. Case, I +am sure Mr. Johnson, the owner of this ranch, can put you up, and +to-morrow we'll start back." +</P> + +<P> +He returned after a few minutes to find me sitting' smoking a moody +pipe. I liked Tim, and I was sorry to have him go. Then, too, I was +ruffled, in the senseless manner of youth, by the sudden altitude to +which his changed fortunes had lifted him. He stood in the middle of +the room, surveying me, then came across and laid his arm on my +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," I growled, without looking up, "you're a very rich man now, Mr. +Clare." +</P> + +<P> +At that he jerked me bodily out of my seat and stood me up in the +centre of the room, the Irish blazing out of his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, none of that!" he snapped. "You damn little fool! Don't you +'Mr. Clare' me!" +</P> + +<P> +So in five minutes we were talking it over. Tim was very much excited +at the prospect. He knew Staghurst well, and told me all about the big +stone house, and the avenue through the trees; and the hedge-row roads, +and the lawn with its peacocks, and the round green hills, and the +labourers' cottages. +</P> + +<P> +"It's home," said he, "and I didn't realise before how much I wanted to +see it. And I'll be a man of weight there, Harry, and it'll be mighty +good." +</P> + +<P> +We made all sorts of plans as to how I was going to visit him just as +soon as I could get together the money for the passage. He had the +delicacy not to offer to let me have it; and that clinched my trust and +love of him. +</P> + +<P> +The next day he drove away with Tony and the dapper little lawyer. I +am not ashamed to say that I watched the buckboard until it disappeared +in the mirage. +</P> + +<P> +I was with Buck Johnson all that summer, and the following winter, as +well. We had our first round-up, found the natural increase much in +excess of the loss by Indians, and extended our holdings up over the +Rock Creek country. We witnessed the start of many Indian campaigns, +participated in a few little brushes with the Chiricahuas, saw the +beginning of the cattle-rustling. A man had not much opportunity to +think of anything but what he had right on hand, but I found time for a +few speculations on Tim. I wondered how he looked now, and what he was +doing, and how in blazes he managed to get away with fifty thousand a +year. +</P> + +<P> +And then one Sunday in June, while I was lying on my bunk, Tim pushed +open the door and walked in. I was young, but I'd seen a lot, and I +knew the expression of his face. So I laid low and said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +In a minute the door opened again, and Buck Johnson himself came in. +</P> + +<P> +"How do," said he; "I saw you ride up." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you do," replied Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"I know all about you," said Buck, without any preliminaries; "your +man, Case, has wrote me. I don't know your reasons, and I don't want +to know—it's none of my business—and I ain't goin' to tell you just +what kind of a damn fool I think you are—that's none of my business, +either. But I want you to understand without question how you stand on +the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite good, sir," said Tim very quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"When you were out here before I was glad to have you here as a sort of +guest. Then you were what I've heerd called a gentleman of leisure. +Now you're nothin' but a remittance man. Your money's nothin' to me, +but the principle of the thing is. The country is plumb pestered with +remittance men, doin' nothin', and I don't aim to run no home for +incompetents. I had a son of a duke drivin' wagon for me; and he +couldn't drive nails in a snowbanks. So don't you herd up with the +idea that you can come on this ranch and loaf." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to loaf," put in Tim, "I want a job." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm willing to give you a job," replied Buck, "but it's jest an +ordinary cow-puncher's job at forty a month. And if you don't fill +your saddle, it goes to someone else." +</P> + +<P> +"That's satisfactory," agreed Tim. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," finished Buck, "so that's understood. Your friend Case +wanted me to give you a lot of advice. A man generally has about as +much use for advice as a cow has for four hind legs." +</P> + +<P> +He went out. +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake, what's up?" I cried, leaping from my bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Hullo, Harry," said he, as though he had seen me the day before, "I've +come back." +</P> + +<P> +"How come back?" I asked. "I thought you couldn't leave the estate. +Have they broken the will?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the money lost?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what?" +</P> + +<P> +"The long and short of it is, that I couldn't afford that estate and +that money." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've given it up." +</P> + +<P> +"Given it up! What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"To come back here." +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">took this all in slowly.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Tim Clare," said I at last, "do you mean to say that you have given up +an English estate and fifty thousand dollars a year to be a remittance +man at five hundred, and a cow-puncher on as much more?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Tim," I adjured him solemnly, "you are a damn fool!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," he agreed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you do it?" I begged. +</P> + +<P> +He walked to the door and looked out across the desert to where the +mountains hovered like soap-bubbles on the horizon. For a long time he +looked; then whirled on me. +</P> + +<P> +"Harry," said he in a low voice, "do you remember the camp we made on +the shoulder of the mountain that night we were caught out? And do you +remember how the dawn came up on the big snow peaks across the way—and +all the canon below us filled with whirling mists—and the steel stars +leaving us one by one? Where could I find room for that in English +paddocks? And do you recall the day we trailed across the Yuma +deserts, and the sun beat into our skulls, and the dry, brittle hills +looked like papier-mache, and the grey sage-bush ran off into the rise +of the hills; and then came sunset and the hard, dry mountains grew +filmy, like gauze veils of many colours, and melted and glowed and +faded to slate blue, and the stars came out? The English hills are +rounded and green and curried, and the sky is near, and the stars only +a few miles up. And do you recollect that dark night when old Loco and +his warriors were camped at the base of Cochise's Stronghold, and we +crept down through the velvet dark wondering when we would be +discovered, our mouths sticky with excitement, and the little winds +blowing?" +</P> + +<P> +He walked up and down a half-dozen times, his breast heaving. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all very well for the man who is brought up to it, and who has +seen nothing else. Case can exist in four walls; he has been brought +up to it and knows nothing different. But a man like me— +</P> + +<P> +"They wanted me to canter between hedge-row,—I who have ridden the +desert where the sky over me and the plain under me were bigger than +the Islander's universe! They wanted me to oversee little farms—I who +have watched the sun rising over half a world! Talk of your ten thou' +a year and what it'll buy! You know, Harry, how it feels when a steer +takes the slack of your rope, and your pony sits back! Where in +England can I buy that? You know the rising and the falling of days, +and the boundless spaces where your heart grows big, and the thirst of +the desert and the hunger of the trail, and a sun that shines and fills +the sky, and a wind that blows fresh from the wide places! Where in +parcelled, snug, green, tight little England could I buy that with ten +thou'—aye, or an hundred times ten thou'? No, no, Harry, that fortune +would cost me too dear. I have seen and done and been too much. I've +come back to the Big Country, where the pay is poor and the work is +hard and the comfort small, but where a man and his soul meet their +Maker face to face." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The Cattleman had finished his yarn. For a time no one spoke. +Outside, the volume of rain was subsiding. Windy Bill reported a few +stars shining through rifts in the showers. The chill that precedes +the dawn brought us as close to the fire as the smouldering guano would +permit. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know whether he was right or wrong," mused the Cattleman, +after a while. "A man can do a heap with that much money. And yet an +old 'alkali' is never happy anywhere else. However," he concluded +emphatically, "one thing I do know: rain, cold, hunger, discomfort, +curses, kicks, and violent deaths included, there isn't one of you +grumblers who would hold that gardening job you spoke of three days!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0104"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOUR +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CATTLE RUSTLERS +</H3> + +<P> +Dawn broke, so we descended through wet grasses to the canon. There, +after some difficulty, we managed to start a fire, and so ate +breakfast, the rain still pouring down on us. About nine o'clock, with +miraculous suddenness, the torrent stopped. It began to turn cold. +The Cattleman and I decided to climb to the top of the butte after +meat, which we entirely lacked. +</P> + +<P> +It was rather a stiff ascent, but once above the sheer cliffs we found +ourselves on a rolling meadow tableland a half-mile broad by, perhaps, +a mile and a half in length. Grass grew high; here and there were +small live oaks planted park-like; slight and rounded ravines +accommodated brooklets. As we walked back, the edges blended in the +edges of the mesa across the canon. The deep gorges, which had +heretofore seemed the most prominent elements of the scenery, were +lost. We stood, apparently, in the middle of a wide and undulating +plain, diversified by little ridges, and running with a free sweep to +the very foot of the snowy Galiuros. It seemed as though we should be +able to ride horseback in almost any given direction. Yet we knew that +ten minutes' walk would take us to the brink of most stupendous +chasms—so deep that the water flowing in them hardly seemed to move; +so rugged that only with the greatest difficulty could a horseman make +his way through the country at all; and yet so ancient that the bottoms +supported forests, rich grasses, and rounded, gentle knolls. It was a +most astonishing set of double impressions. +</P> + +<P> +We succeeded in killing a nice, fat white-tail buck, and so returned to +camp happy. The rain, held off. We dug ditches, organised shelters, +cooked a warm meal. For the next day we planned a bear hunt afoot, far +up a manzanita canon where Uncle Jim knew of some "holing up" caves. +</P> + +<P> +But when we awoke in the morning we threw aside our coverings with some +difficulty to look on a ground covered with snow; trees laden almost to +the breaking point with snow, and the air filled with it. +</P> + +<P> +"No bear today" said the Cattleman. +</P> + +<P> +"No," agreed Uncle Jim drily. "No b'ar. And what's more, unless yo're +aimin' to stop here somewhat of a spell, we'll have to make out to-day." +</P> + +<P> +We cooked with freezing fingers, ate while dodging avalanches from the +trees, and packed reluctantly. The ropes were frozen, the hobbles +stiff, everything either crackling or wet. Finally the task was +finished. We took a last warming of the fingers and climbed on. +</P> + +<P> +The country was wonderfully beautiful with the white not yet shaken +from the trees and rock ledges. Also it was wonderfully slippery. The +snow was soft enough to ball under the horses' hoofs, so that most of +the time the poor animals skated and stumbled along on stilts. Thus we +made our way back over ground which, naked of these difficulties, we +had considered bad enough. +</P> + +<P> +Imagine riding along a slant of rock shelving off to a bad tumble, so +steep that your pony has to do more or less expert ankle work to keep +from slipping off sideways. During the passage of that rock you are +apt to sit very light. Now cover it with several inches of snow, stick +a snowball on each hoof of your mount, and try again. When you have +ridden it—or its duplicate—a few score of times, select a steep +mountain side, cover it with round rocks the size of your head, and +over that spread a concealing blanket of the same sticky snow. You are +privileged to vary these to the limits of your imagination. +</P> + +<P> +Once across the divide, we ran into a new sort of trouble. You may +remember that on our journey over we had been forced to travel for some +distance in a narrow stream-bed. During our passage we had scrambled +up some rather steep and rough slopes, and hopped up some fairly high +ledges. Now we found the heretofore dry bed flowing a good eight +inches deep. The steep slopes had become cascades; the ledges, +waterfalls. When we came to them, we had to "shoot the rapids" as best +we could, only to land with a PLUNK in an indeterminately deep pool at +the bottom. Some of the pack horses went down, sousing again our +unfortunate bedding, but by the grace of fortune not a saddle pony lost +his feet. +</P> + +<P> +After a time the gorge widened. We came out into the box canon with +its trees. Here the water spread and shoaled to a depth of only two or +three inches. We splashed along gaily enough, for, with the exception +of an occasional quicksand or boggy spot, our troubles were over. +</P> + +<P> +Jed Parker and I happened to ride side by side, bringing up the rear +and seeing to it that the pack animals did not stray or linger. As we +passed the first of the rustlers' corrals, he called my attention to +them. +</P> + +<P> +"Go take a look," said he. "We only got those fellows out of here two +years ago." +</P> + +<P> +I rode over. At this point the rim-rock broke to admit the ingress of +a ravine into the main canon. Riding a short distance up the ravine, I +could see that it ended abruptly in a perpendicular cliff. As the +sides also were precipitous, it became necessary only to build a fence +across the entrance into the main canon to become possessed of a corral +completely closed in. Remembering the absolute invisibility of these +sunken canons until the rider is almost directly over them, and also +the extreme roughness and remoteness of the district, I could see that +the spot was admirably adapted to concealment. +</P> + +<P> +"There's quite a yarn about the gang that held this hole," said Jed +Parker to me, when I had ridden back to him "I'll tell you about it +sometime." +</P> + +<P> +We climbed the hill, descended on the Double R, built a fire in the +stove, dried out, and were happy. After a square meal—and a dry +one—I reminded Jed Parker of his promise, and so, sitting cross-legged +on his "so-gun" in the middle of the floor, he told us the following +yarn: +</P> + +<P> +There's a good deal of romance been written about the "bad man," and +there's about the same amount of nonsense. The bad man is justa plain +murderer, neither more nor less. He never does get into a real, good, +plain, stand-up gunfight if he can possibly help it. His killin's are +done from behind a door, or when he's got his man dead to rights. +There's Sam Cook. You've all heard of him. He had nerve, of course, +and when he was backed into a corner he made good; he was sure sudden +death with a gun. But when he went for a man deliberate, he didn't +take no special chances. For a while he was marshal at Willets. +Pretty soon it was noted that there was a heap of cases of resisting +arrest, where Sam as marshal had to shoot, and that those cases almost +always happened to be his personal enemies. Of course, that might be +all right, but it looked suspicious. Then one day he killed poor old +Max Schmidt out behind his own saloon. Called him out and shot him in +the stomach. Said Max resisted arrest on a warrant for keepin' open +out of hours! That was a sweet warrant to take out in Willets, anyway! +Mrs. Schmidt always claimed that she saw that deal played, and that, +while they were talkin' perfectly peacable, Cook let drive from the hip +at about two yards' range. Anyway, we decided we needed another +marshal. Nothin' else was ever done, for the Vigilantes hadn't been +formed, and your individual and decent citizen doesn't care to be +marked by a gun of that stripe. Leastwise, unless he wants to go in +for bad-man methods and do a little ambusheein' on his own account. +</P> + +<P> +The point is, that these yere bad men are a low-down, miserable +proposition, and plain, cold-blood murderers, willin' to wait for a +sure thing, and without no compunctions whatsoever. The bad man takes +you unawares, when you're sleepin', or talkin', or drinkin', or lookin' +to see what for a day it's goin' to be, anyway. He don't give you no +show, and sooner or later he's goin' to get you in the safest and +easiest way for himself. There ain't no romance about that. +</P> + +<P> +And, until you've seen a few men called out of their shacks for a +friendly conversation, and shot when they happen to look away; or asked +for a drink of water, and killed when they stoop to the spring; or +potted from behind as they go into a room, it's pretty hard to believe +that any man can be so plumb lackin' in fair play or pity or just +natural humanity. +</P> + +<P> +As you boys know, I come in from Texas to Buck Johnson's about ten year +back. I had a pretty good mount of ponies that I knew, and I hated to +let them go at prices they were offerin' then, so I made up my mind to +ride across and bring them in with me. It wasn't so awful far, and I +figured that I'd like to take in what New Mexico looked like anyway. +</P> + +<P> +About down by Albuquerque I tracked up with another outfit headed my +way. There was five of them, three men, and a woman, and a yearlin' +baby. They had a dozen hosses, and that was about all I could see. +There was only two packed, and no wagon. I suppose the whole +outfit—pots, pans, and kettles—was worth five dollars. It was just +supper when I run across them, and it didn't take more'n one look to +discover that flour, coffee, sugar, and salt was all they carried. A +yearlin' carcass, half-skinned, lay near, and the fry-pan was, full of +meat. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy, strangers," says I, ridin' up. +</P> + +<P> +They nodded a little, but didn't say nothin'. My hosses fell to +grazin', and I eased myself around in my saddle, and made a cigareet. +The men was tall, lank fellows, with kind of sullen faces, and sly, +shifty eyes; the woman was dirty and generally mussed up. I knowed +that sort all right. Texas was gettin' too many fences for them. +</P> + +<P> +"Havin' supper?" says I, cheerful. +</P> + +<P> +One of 'em grunted "Yes" at me; and, after a while, the biggest asked +me very grudgin' if I wouldn't light and eat, I told them "No," that I +was travellin' in the cool of the evenin'. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to have more meat than you need, though," says I. "I could +use a little of that." +</P> + +<P> +"Help yourself," says they. "It's a maverick we come across." +</P> + +<P> +I took a steak, and noted that the hide had been mighty well cut to +ribbons around the flanks and that the head was gone. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I to the carcass, "No one's going to be able to swear +whether you're a maverick or not, but I bet you knew the feel of a +brandin' iron all right." +</P> + +<P> +I gave them a thank-you, and climbed on again. My hosses acted some +surprised at bein' gathered up again, but I couldn't help that. +</P> + +<P> +"It looks like a plumb imposition, cavallos," says I to them, "after an +all-day, but you sure don't want to join that outfit any more than I do +the angels, and if we camp here we're likely to do both." +</P> + +<P> +I didn't see them any more after that until I'd hit the Lazy Y, and had +started in runnin' cattle in the Soda Springs Valley. Larry Eagen and +I rode together those days, and that's how I got to know him pretty +well. One day, over in the Elm Flat, we ran smack on this Texas outfit +again, headed north. This time I was on my own range, and I knew where +I stood, so I could show a little more curiosity in the case. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you got this far," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says they. +</P> + +<P> +"Where you headed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over towards the hills." +</P> + +<P> +"What to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Make a ranch, raise some truck; perhaps buy a few cows." +</P> + +<P> +They went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Truck" says I to Larry, "is fine prospects in this country." +</P> + +<P> +He sat on his horse looking after them. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry for them" says he. "It must he almighty hard scratchin'." +</P> + +<P> +Well, we rode the range for upwards of two year. In that time we saw +our Texas friends—name of Hahn—two or three times in Willets, and +heard of them off and on. They bought an old brand of Steve McWilliams +for seventy-five dollars, carryin' six or eight head of cows. After +that, from time to time, we heard of them buying more—two or three +head from one man, and two or three from another. They branded them +all with that McWilliams iron—T 0—so, pretty soon, we began to see +the cattle on the range. +</P> + +<P> +Now, a good cattleman knows cattle just as well as you know people, and +he can tell them about as far off. Horned critters look alike to you, +but even in a country supportin' a good many thousand head, a man used +to the business can recognise most every individual as far as he can +see him. Some is better than others at it. I suppose you really have +to be brought up to it. So we boys at the Lazy Y noted all the cattle +with the new T 0, and could estimate pretty close that the Hahn outfit +might own, maybe, thirty-five head all told. +</P> + +<P> +That was all very well, and nobody had any kick comin'. Then one day +in the spring, we came across our first "sleeper." +</P> + +<P> +What's a sleeper? A sleeper is a calf that has been ear-marked, but +not branded. Every owner has a certain brand, as you know, and then he +crops and slits the ears in a certain way, too. In that manner he +don't have to look at the brand, except to corroborate the ears; and, +as the critter generally sticks his ears up inquirin'-like to anyone +ridin' up, it's easy to know the brand without lookin' at it, merely +from the ear-marks. Once in a great while, when a man comes across an +unbranded calf, and it ain't handy to build a fire, he just ear-marks +it and let's the brandin' go till later. But it isn't done often, and +our outfit had strict orders never to make sleepers. +</P> + +<P> +Well, one day in the spring, as I say, Larry and me was ridin', when we +came across a Lazy Y cow and calf. The little fellow was ear-marked +all right, so we rode on, and never would have discovered nothin' if a +bush rabbit hadn't jumped and scared the calf right across in front of +our hosses. Then we couldn't help but see that there wasn't no brand. +</P> + +<P> +Of course we roped him and put the iron on him. I took the chance to +look at his ears, and saw that the marking had been done quite recent, +so when we got in that night I reported to Buck Johnson that one of the +punchers was gettin' lazy and sleeperin'. Naturally he went after the +man who had done it; but every puncher swore up and down, and back and +across, that he'd branded every calf he'd had a rope on that spring. +We put it down that someone was lyin', and let it go at that. +</P> + +<P> +And then, about a week later, one of the other boys reported a +Triangle-H sleeper. The Triangle-H was the Goodrich brand, so we +didn't have nothin' to do with that. Some of them might be sleeperin' +for all we knew. Three other cases of the same kind we happened across +that same spring. +</P> + +<P> +So far, so good. Sleepers runnin' in such numbers was a little +astonishin', but nothin' suspicious. Cattle did well that summer, and +when we come to round up in the fall, we cut out maybe a dozen of those +T 0 cattle that had strayed out of that Hahn country. Of the dozen +there was five grown cows, and seven yearlin's. +</P> + +<P> +"My Lord, Jed," says Buck to me, "they's a heap of these youngsters +comin' over our way." +</P> + +<P> +But still, as a young critter is more apt to stray than an old one +that's got his range established, we didn't lay no great store by that +neither. The Hahns took their bunch, and that's all there was to it. +</P> + +<P> +Next spring, though, we found a few more sleepers, and one day we came +on a cow that had gone dead lame. That was usual, too, but Buck, who +was with me, had somethin' on his mind. Finally he turned back and +roped her, and threw her. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Jed," says he, "what do you make of this?" +</P> + +<P> +I could see where the hind legs below the hocks had been burned. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like somebody had roped her by the hind feet," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Might be," says he, "but her heels lame that way makes it look more +like hobbles." +</P> + +<P> +So we didn't say nothin' more about that neither, until just by luck we +came on another lame cow. We threw her, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do you think of this one?" Buck Johnson asks me. +</P> + +<P> +"The feet is pretty well tore up," says I, "and down to the quick, but +I've seen them tore up just as bad on the rocks when they come down out +of the mountains." +</P> + +<P> +You sabe what that meant, don't you? You see, a rustler will take a +cow and hobble her, or lame her so she can't follow, and then he'll +take her calf a long ways off and brand it with his iron. Of course, +if we was to see a calf of one brand followin' of a cow with another, +it would be just too easy to guess what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +We rode on mighty thoughtful. There couldn't be much doubt that cattle +rustlers was at work. The sleepers they had ear-marked, hopin' that no +one would discover the lack of a brand. Then, after the calf was +weaned, and quit followin' of his mother, the rustler would brand it +with his own iron, and change its ear-mark to match. It made a nice, +easy way of gettin' together a bunch of cattle cheap. +</P> + +<P> +But it was pretty hard to guess off-hand who the rustlers might be. +There were a lot of renegades down towards the Mexican line who made a +raid once in a while, and a few oilers [2] livin' near had water holes +in the foothills, and any amount of little cattle holders, like this T +0 outfit, and any of them wouldn't shy very hard at a little sleeperin' +on the side. Buck Johnson told us all to watch out, and passed the +word quiet among the big owners to try and see whose cattle seemed to +have too many calves for the number of cows. +</P> + +<P> +The Texas outfit I'm tellin' you about had settled up above in this +Double R canon where I showed you those natural corrals this morning. +They'd built them a 'dobe, and cleared some land, and planted a few +trees, and made an irrigated patch for alfalfa. Nobody never rode over +this way very much, 'cause the country was most too rough for cattle, +and our ranges lay farther to the southward. Now, however, we began to +extend our ridin' a little. +</P> + +<P> +I was down towards Dos Cabesas to look over the cattle there, and they +used to send Larry up into the Double R country. One evenin' he took +me to one side. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Jed," says he, "I know you pretty well, and I'm not ashamed +to say that I'm all new at this cattle business—in fact, I haven't +been at it more'n a year. What should be the proportion of cows to +calves anyhow?" +</P> + +<P> +"There ought to be about twice as many cows as there're calves," I +tells him. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, with only about fifty head of grown cows, there ought not to be +an equal number of yearlin's?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should say not," says I. "What are you drivin' at?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin' yet," says he. +</P> + +<P> +A few days later he tackled me again. +</P> + +<P> +"Jed," says he, "I'm not good, like you fellows are, at knowin' one cow +from another, but there's a calf down there branded T 0 that I'd pretty +near swear I saw with an X Y cow last month. I wish you could come +down with me." +</P> + +<P> +We got that fixed easy enough, and for the next month rammed around +through this broken country lookin' for evidence. I saw enough to +satisfy me to a moral certainty, but nothin' for a sheriff; and, of +course, we couldn't go shoot up a peaceful rancher on mere suspicion. +Finally, one day, we run on a four-months' calf all by himself, with +the T 0 iron onto him—a mighty healthy lookin' calf, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder where HIS mother is!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe it's a 'dogie,'" says Larry Eagen—we calls calves whose mothers +have died "dogies." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I, "I don't hardly think so. A dogie is always under size +and poor, and he's layin' around water holes, and he always has a big, +sway belly onto him. No, this is no dogie; and, if it's an honest +calf, there sure ought to be a T 0 cow around somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +So we separated to have a good look. Larry rode up on the edge of a +little rimrock. In a minute I saw his hoss jump back, dodgin' a +rattlesnake or somethin', and then fall back out of sight. I jumped my +hoss up there tur'ble quick, and looked over, expectin' to see nothin' +but mangled remains. It was only about fifteen foot down, but I +couldn't see bottom 'count of some brush. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you all right?" I yells. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes!" cries Larry, "but for the love of God, get down here as +quick as you can." +</P> + +<P> +I hopped off my hoss and scrambled down somehow. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurt?" says I, as soon as I lit. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit—look here." +</P> + +<P> +There was a dead cow with the Lazy Y on her flank. +</P> + +<P> +"And a bullet-hole in her forehead," adds Larry. "And, look here, that +T 0 calf was bald-faced, and so was this cow." +</P> + +<P> +"Reckon we found our sleepers," says I. +</P> + +<P> +So, there we was. Larry had to lead his cavallo down the barranca to +the main canon. I followed along on the rim, waitin' until a place +gave me a chance to get down, too, or Larry a chance to get up. We +were talkin' back and forth when, all at once, Larry shouted again. +</P> + +<P> +"Big game this time," he yells. "Here's a cave and a mountain lion +squallin' in it." +</P> + +<P> +I slid down to him at once, and we drew our six-shooters and went up to +the cave openin', right under the rim-rock. There, sure enough, were +fresh lion tracks, and we could hear a little faint cryin' like woman. +</P> + +<P> +"First chance," claims Larry, and dropped to his hands and knees at the +entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, damn me!" he cries, and crawls in at once, payin' no attention +to me tellin' him to be more cautious. In a minute he backs out, +carryin' a three-year-old goat. +</P> + +<P> +"We seem to be in for adventures to-day," says he. "Now, where do you +suppose that came from, and how did it get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "I've followed lion tracks where they've carried +yearlin's across their backs like a fox does a goose. They're tur'ble +strong." +</P> + +<P> +"But where did she come from?" he wonders. +</P> + +<P> +"As for that," says I, "don't you remember now that T 0 outfit had a +yearlin' kid when it came into the country?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says he. "It's only a mile down the canon. I'll take +it home. They must be most distracted about it." +</P> + +<P> +So I scratched up to the top where my pony was waitin'. It was a +tur'ble hard climb, and I 'most had to have hooks on my eyebrows to get +up at all. It's easier to slide down than to climb back. I dropped my +gun out of my holster, and she went way to the bottom, but I wouldn't +have gone back for six guns. Larry picked it up for me. +</P> + +<P> +So we went along, me on the rim-rock and around the barrancas, and +Larry in the bottom carryin' of the kid. +</P> + +<P> +By and by we came to the ranch house, stopped to wait. The minute +Larry hove in sight everybody was out to once, and in two winks the +woman had that baby. They didn't see me at all, but I could hear, plain +enough, what they said. Larry told how he had found her in the cave, +and all about the lion tracks, and the woman cried and held the kid +close to her, and thanked him about forty times. Then when she'd wore +the edge off a little, she took the kid inside to feed it or somethin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says Larry, still laughin', "I must hit the trail." +</P> + +<P> +"You say you found her up the Double R?" asks Hahn. "Was it that cave +near the three cottonwoods?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says Larry. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'd you get into the canyon?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my hoss slipped off into the barranca just above." +</P> + +<P> +"The barranca just above," repeats Hahn, lookin' straight at him. +</P> + +<P> +Larry took one step back. +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to be almighty glad I got into the canyon at all," says he. +</P> + +<P> +Hahn stepped up, holdin' out his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says he. "You done us a good turn there." +</P> + +<P> +Larry took his hand. At the same time Hahn pulled his gun and shot him +through the middle. +</P> + +<P> +It was all so sudden and unexpected that I stood there paralysed. +</P> + +<P> +Larry fell forward the way a man mostly will when he's hit in the +stomach, but somehow he jerked loose a gun and got it off twice. He +didn't hit nothin', and I reckon he was dead before he hit the ground. +And there he had my gun, and I was about as useless as a pocket in a +shirt! +</P> + +<P> +No, sir, you can talk as much as you please, but the killer is a +low-down ornery scub, and he don't hesitate at no treachery or +ingratitude to keep his carcass safe. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Jed Parker ceased talking. The dusk had fallen in the little room, and +dimly could be seen the recumbent figures lying at ease on their +blankets. The ranch foreman was sitting bolt upright, cross-legged. A +faint glow from his pipe barely distinguished his features. +</P> + +<P> +"What became of the rustlers?" I asked him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, that is the queer part. Hahn himself, who had done the +killin', skipped out. We got out warrants, of course, but they never +got served. He was a sort of half outlaw from that time, and was +killed finally in the train hold-up of '97. But the others we tried +for rustling. We didn't have much of a case, as the law went then, and +they'd have gone free if the woman hadn't turned evidence against them. +The killin' was too much for her. And, as the precedent held good in a +lot of other rustlin' cases, Larry's death was really the beginnin' of +law and order in the cattle business." +</P> + +<P> +We smoked. The last light suddenly showed red against the grimy +window. Windy Bill arose and looked out the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Boys," said he, returning. "She's cleared off. We can get back to the +ranch tomorrow." +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[2] "Oilers"—Greasers—Mexicans. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0105"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DRIVE +</H3> + +<P> +A cry awakened me. It was still deep night. The moon sailed overhead, +the stars shone unwavering like candles, and a chill breeze wandered in +from the open spaces of the desert. I raised myself on my elbow, +throwing aside the blankets and the canvas tarpaulin. Forty other +indistinct, formless bundles on the ground all about me were sluggishly +astir. Four figures passed and repassed between me and a red fire. I +knew them for the two cooks and the horse wranglers. One of the latter +was grumbling. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't git in till moon-up last night," he growled. "Might as well +trade my bed for a lantern and be done with it." +</P> + +<P> +Even as I stretched my arms and shivered a little, the two wranglers +threw down their tin plates with a clatter, mounted horses and rode +away in the direction of the thousand acres or so known as the pasture. +</P> + +<P> +I pulled on my clothes hastily, buckled in my buckskin shirt, and dove +for the fire. A dozen others were before me. It was bitterly cold. +In the east the sky had paled the least bit in the world, but the moon +and stars shone on bravely and undiminished. A band of coyotes was +shrieking desperate blasphemies against the new day, and the stray +herd, awakening, was beginning to bawl and bellow. +</P> + +<P> +Two crater-like dutch ovens, filled with pieces of fried beef, stood +near the fire; two galvanised water buckets, brimming with soda +biscuits, flanked them; two tremendous coffee pots stood guard at +either end. We picked us each a tin cup and a tin plate from the box +at the rear of the chuck wagon; helped ourselves from a dutch oven, a +pail, and a coffee pot, and squatted on our heels as close to the fire +as possible. Men who came too late borrowed the shovel, scooped up +some coals, and so started little fires of their own about which new +groups formed. +</P> + +<P> +While we ate, the eastern sky lightened. The mountains under the dawn +looked like silhouettes cut from slate-coloured paper; those in the +west showed faintly luminous. Objects about us became dimly visible. +We could make out the windmill, and the adobe of the ranch houses, and +the corrals. The cowboys arose one by one, dropped their plates into +the dishpan, and began to hunt out their ropes. Everything was obscure +and mysterious in the faint grey light. I watched Windy Bill near his +tarpaulin. He stooped to throw over the canvas. When he bent, it was +before daylight; when he straightened his back, daylight had come. It +was just like that, as though someone had reached out his hand to turn +on the illumination of the world. +</P> + +<P> +The eastern mountains were fragile, the plain was ethereal, like a sea +of liquid gases. From the pasture we heard the shoutings of the +wranglers, and made out a cloud of dust. In a moment the first of the +remuda came into view, trotting forward with the free grace of the +unburdened horse. Others followed in procession: those near sharp and +well defined, those in the background more or less obscured by the +dust, now appearing plainly, now fading like ghosts. The leader turned +unhesitatingly into the corral. After him poured the stream of the +remuda—two hundred and fifty saddle horses—with an unceasing thunder +of hoofs. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately the cook-camp was deserted. The cowboys entered the +corral. The horses began to circle around the edge of the enclosure as +around the circumference of a circus ring. The men, grouped at the +centre, watched keenly, looking for the mounts they had already decided +on. In no time each had recognised his choice, and, his loop trailing, +was walking toward that part of the revolving circumference where his +pony dodged. Some few whirled the loop, but most cast it with a quick +flip. It was really marvellous to observe the accuracy with which the +noose would fly, past a dozen tossing heads, and over a dozen backs, to +settle firmly about the neck of an animal perhaps in the very centre of +the group. But again, if the first throw failed, it was interesting to +see how the selected pony would dodge, double back, twist, turn, and +hide to escape second cast. And it was equally interesting to observe +how his companions would help him. +</P> + +<P> +They seemed to realise that they were not wanted, and would push +themselves between the cowboy and his intended mount with the utmost +boldness. In the thick dust that instantly arose, and with the +bewildering thunder of galloping, the flashing change of grouping, the +rush of the charging animals, recognition alone would seem almost +impossible, yet in an incredibly short time each had his mount, and the +others, under convoy of the wranglers, were meekly wending their way +out over the plain. There, until time for a change of horses, they +would graze in a loose and scattered band, requiring scarcely any +supervision. Escape? Bless you, no, that thought was the last in +their minds. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime the saddles and bridles were adjusted. Always in a +cowboy's "string" of from six to ten animals the boss assigns him two +or three broncos to break in to the cow business. Therefore, each +morning we could observe a half dozen or so men gingerly leading wicked +looking little animals out to the sand "to take the pitch out of them." +One small black, belonging to a cowboy called the Judge, used more than +to fulfil expectations of a good time. +</P> + +<P> +"Go to him, Judge!" someone would always remark. +</P> + +<P> +"If he ain't goin' to pitch, I ain't goin' to make him", the Judge +would grin, as he swung aboard. +</P> + +<P> +The black would trot off quite calmly and in a most matter of fact way, +as though to shame all slanderers of his lamb-like character. Then, as +the bystanders would turn away, he would utter a squeal, throw down his +head, and go at it. He was a very hard bucker, and made some really +spectacular jumps, but the trick on which he based his claims to +originality consisted in standing on his hind legs at so perilous an +approach to the perpendicular that his rider would conclude he was +about to fall backwards, and then suddenly springing forward in a +series of stiff-legged bucks. The first manoeuvre induced the rider to +loosen his seat in order to be ready to jump from under, and the second +threw him before he could regain his grip. +</P> + +<P> +"And they say a horse don't think!" exclaimed an admirer. +</P> + +<P> +But as these were broken horses—save the mark!—the show was all over +after each had had his little fling. We mounted and rode away, just as +the mountain peaks to the west caught the rays of a sun we should not +enjoy for a good half hour yet. +</P> + +<P> +I had five horses in my string, and this morning rode "that C S horse, +Brown Jug." Brown Jug was a powerful and well-built animal, about +fourteen two in height, and possessed of a vast enthusiasm for +cow-work. As the morning was frosty, he felt good. +</P> + +<P> +At the gate of the water corral we separated into two groups. The +smaller, under the direction of Jed Parker, was to drive the mesquite +in the wide flats. The rest of us, under the command of Homer, the +round-up captain, were to sweep the country even as far as the base of +the foothills near Mount Graham. Accordingly we put our horses to the +full gallop. +</P> + +<P> +Mile after mile we thundered along at a brisk rate of speed. Sometimes +we dodged in and out among the mesquite bushes, alternately separating +and coming together again; sometimes we swept over grassy plains +apparently of illimitable extent, sometimes we skipped and hopped and +buck-jumped through and over little gullies, barrancas, and other sorts +of malpais—but always without drawing rein. The men rode easily, with +no thought to the way nor care for the footing. The air came back +sharp against our faces. The warm blood stirred by the rush flowed +more rapidly. We experienced a delightful glow. Of the morning cold +only the very tips of our fingers and the ends of our noses retained a +remnant. Already the sun was shining low and level across the plains. +The shadows of the canons modelled the hitherto flat surfaces of the +mountains. +</P> + +<P> +After a time we came to some low hills helmeted with the outcrop of a +rock escarpment. Hitherto they had seemed a termination of Mount +Graham, but now, when we rode around them, we discovered them to be +separated from the range by a good five miles of sloping plain. Later +we looked back and would have sworn them part of the Dos Cabesas +system, did we not know them to be at least eight miles' distant from +that rocky rampart. It is always that way in Arizona. Spaces develop +of whose existence you had not the slightest intimation. Hidden in +apparently plane surfaces are valleys and prairies. At one sweep of +the eye you embrace the entire area of an eastern State; but +nevertheless the reality as you explore it foot by foot proves to be +infinitely more than the vision has promised. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond the hill we stopped. Here our party divided again, half to the +right and half to the left. We had ridden, up to this time, directly +away from camp, now we rode a circumference of which headquarters was +the centre. The country was pleasantly rolling and covered with grass. +Here and there were clumps of soapweed. Far in a remote distance lay a +slender dark line across the plain. This we knew to be mesquite; and +once entered, we knew it, too, would seem to spread out vastly. And +then this grassy slope, on which we now rode, would show merely as an +insignificant streak of yellow. It is also like that in Arizona. +</P> + +<P> +I have ridden in succession through grass land, brush land, flower +land, desert. Each in turn seemed entirely to fill the space of the +plains between the mountains. +</P> + +<P> +From time to time Homer halted us and detached a man. The business of +the latter was then to ride directly back to camp, driving all cattle +before him. Each was in sight of his right- and left-hand neighbour. +Thus was constructed a drag-net whose meshes contracted as home was +neared. +</P> + +<P> +I was detached, when of our party only the Cattleman and Homer +remained. They would take the outside. This was the post of honour, +and required the hardest riding, for as soon as the cattle should +realise the fact of their pursuit, they would attempt to "break" past +the end and up the valley. Brown Jug and I congratulated ourselves on +an exciting morning in prospect. +</P> + +<P> +Now, wild cattle know perfectly well what a drive means, and they do +not intend to get into a round-up if they can help it. Were it not for +the two facts, that they are afraid of a mounted man, and cannot run +quite so fast as a horse, I do not know how the cattle business would +be conducted. As soon as a band of them caught sight of any one of us, +they curled their tails and away they went at a long, easy lope that a +domestic cow would stare at in wonder. This was all very well; in fact +we yelled and shrieked and otherwise uttered cow-calls to keep them +going, to "get the cattle started," as they say. But pretty soon a +little band of the many scurrying away before our thin line, began to +bear farther and farther to the east. When in their judgment they +should have gained an opening, they would turn directly back and make a +dash for liberty. Accordingly the nearest cowboy clapped spurs to his +horse and pursued them. +</P> + +<P> +It was a pretty race. The cattle ran easily enough, with long, springy +jumps that carried them over the ground faster than appearances would +lead one to believe. The cow-pony, his nose stretched out, his ears +slanted, his eyes snapping with joy of the chase, flew fairly "belly to +earth." The rider sat slightly forward, with the cowboy's loose seat. +A whirl of dust, strangely insignificant against the immensity of a +desert morning, rose from the flying group. Now they disappeared in a +ravine, only to scramble out again the next instant, pace undiminished. +The rider merely rose slightly and threw up his elbows to relieve the +jar of the rough gully. At first the cattle seemed to hold their own, +but soon the horse began to gain. In a short time he had come abreast +of the leading animal. +</P> + +<P> +The latter stopped short with a snort, dodged back, and set out at +right angles to his former course. From a dead run the pony came to a +stand in two fierce plunges, doubled like a shot, and was off on the +other tack. An unaccustomed rider would here have lost his seat. The +second dash was short. With a final shake of the head, the steers +turned to the proper course in the direction of the ranch. The pony +dropped unconcernedly to the shuffling jog of habitual progression. +</P> + +<P> +Far away stretched the arc of our cordon. The most distant rider was +a speck, and the cattle ahead of him were like maggots endowed with a +smooth, swift onward motion. As yet the herd had not taken form; it +was still too widely scattered. Its units, in the shape of small +bunches, momently grew in numbers. The distant plains were crawling +and alive with minute creatures making toward a common tiny centre. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately in our front the cattle at first behaved very well. Then +far down the long gentle slope I saw a break for the upper valley. The +manikin that represented Homer at once became even smaller as it +departed in pursuit. The Cattleman moved down to cover Homer's +territory until he should return—and I in turn edged farther to the +right. Then another break from another bunch. The Cattleman rode at +top speed to head it. Before long he disappeared in the distant +mesquite. I found myself in sole charge of a front three miles long. +</P> + +<P> +The nearest cattle were some distance ahead, and trotting along at a +good gait. As they had not yet discovered the chance left open by +unforeseen circumstance, I descended and took in on my cinch while yet +there was time. Even as I mounted, an impatient movement on the part +of experienced Brown Jug told me that the cattle had seen their +opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +I gathered the reins and spoke to the horse. He needed no further +direction, but set off at a wide angle, nicely calculated, to intercept +the truants. Brown Jug was a powerful beast. The spring of his leap +was as whalebone. The yellow earth began to stream past like water. +Always the pace increased with a growing thunder of hoofs. It seemed +that nothing could turn us from the straight line, nothing check the +headlong momentum of our rush. My eyes filled with tears from the wind +of our going. Saddle strings streamed behind. Brown Jug's mane +whipped my bridle band. Dimly I was conscious of soapweed, sacatone, +mesquite, as we passed them. They were abreast and gone before I could +think of them or how they were to be dodged. Two antelope bounded away +to the left; birds rose hastily from the grasses. A sudden chirk, +chirk, chirk, rose all about me. We were in the very centre of a +prairie-dog town, but before I could formulate in my mind the +probabilities of holes and broken legs, the chirk, chirk, chirking had +fallen astern. Brown Jug had skipped and dodged successfully. +</P> + +<P> +We were approaching the cattle. They ran stubbornly and well, +evidently unwilling to be turned until the latest possible moment. A +great rage at their obstinacy took possession of us both. A broad +shallow wash crossed our way, but we plunged through its rocks and +boulders recklessly, angered at even the slight delay they +necessitated. The hardland on the other side we greeted with joy. +Brown Jug extended himself with a snort. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a jar seemed to shake my very head loose. I found myself +staring over the horse's head directly down into a deep and precipitous +gully, the edge of which was so cunningly concealed by the grasses as +to have remained invisible to my blurred vision. Brown Jug, however, +had caught sight of it at the last instant, and had executed one of +the wonderful stops possible only to a cow-pony. +</P> + +<P> +But already the cattle had discovered a passage above, and were +scrambling down and across. Brown Jug and I, at more sober pace, slid +off the almost perpendicular bank, and out the other side. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later we had headed them. They whirled, and without the +necessity of any suggestion on my part Brown Jug turned after them, and +so quickly that my stirrup actually brushed the ground. +</P> + +<P> +After that we were masters. We chased the cattle far enough to start +them well in the proper direction, and then pulled down to a walk in +order to get a breath of air. +</P> + +<P> +But now we noticed another band, back on the ground over which we had +just come, doubling through in the direction of Mount Graham. A hard +run set them to rights. We turned. More had poured out from the +hills. Bands were crossing everywhere, ahead and behind. Brown Jug +and I went to work. +</P> + +<P> +Being an indivisible unit, we could chase only one bunch at a time; +and, while we were after one, a half dozen others would be taking +advantage of our preoccupation. We could not hold our own. Each run +after an escaping bunch had to be on a longer diagonal. Gradually we +were forced back, and back, and back; but still we managed to hold the +line unbroken. Never shall I forget the dash and clatter of that +morning. Neither Brown Jug nor I thought for a moment of sparing +horseflesh, nor of picking a route. We made the shortest line, and +paid little attention to anything that stood in the way. A very fever +of resistance possessed us. It was like beating against a head wind, +or fighting fire, or combating in any other of the great forces of +nature. We were quite alone. The Cattleman and Homer had vanished. +To our left the men were fully occupied in marshalling the compact +brown herds that had gradually massed—for these antagonists of mine +were merely outlying remnants. +</P> + +<P> +I suppose Brown Jug must have run nearly twenty miles with only one +check. Then we chased a cow some distance and into the dry bed of a +stream, where she whirled on us savagely. By luck her horn hit only +the leather of my saddle skirts, so we left her; for when a cow has +sense enough to "get on the peck," there is no driving her farther. We +gained nothing, and had to give ground, but we succeeded in holding a +semblance of order, so that the cattle did not break and scatter far +and wide. The sun had by now well risen, and was beginning to shine +hot. Brown Jug still ran gamely and displayed as much interest as +ever, but he was evidently tiring. We were both glad to see Homer's +grey showing in the fringe of mesquite. +</P> + +<P> +Together we soon succeeded in throwing the cows into the main herd. +And, strangely enough, as soon as they had joined a compact band of +their fellows, their wildness left them and, convoyed by outsiders, +they set themselves to plodding energetically toward the home ranch. +</P> + +<P> +As my horse was somewhat winded, I joined the "drag" at the rear. Here +by course of natural sifting soon accumulated all the lazy, gentle, and +sickly cows, and the small calves. The difficulty now was to prevent +them from lagging and dropping out. To that end we indulged in a great +variety of the picturesque cow-calls peculiar to the cowboy. One found +an old tin can which by the aid of a few pebbles he converted into a +very effective rattle. +</P> + +<P> +The dust rose in clouds and eddied in the sun. We slouched easily in +our saddles. The cowboys compared notes as to the brands they had +seen. Our ponies shuffled along, resting, but always ready for a dash +in chase of an occasional bull calf or yearling with independent ideas +of its own. +</P> + +<P> +Thus we passed over the country, down the long gentle slope to the +"sink" of the valley, whence another long gentle slope ran to the base +of the other ranges. At greater or lesser distances we caught the +dust, and made out dimly the masses of the other herds collected by our +companions, and by the party under Jed Parker. They went forward +toward the common centre, with a slow ruminative movement, and the dust +they raised went with them. +</P> + +<P> +Little by little they grew plainer to us, and the home ranch, hitherto +merely a brown shimmer in the distance, began to take on definition as +the group of buildings, windmills, and corrals we knew. Miniature +horsemen could be seen galloping forward to the open white plain where +the herd would be held. Then the mesquite enveloped us; and we knew +little more, save the anxiety lest we overlook laggards in the brush, +until we came out on the edge of that same white plain. +</P> + +<P> +Here were more cattle, thousands of them, and billows of dust, and a +great bellowing, and slim, mounted figures riding and shouting ahead of +the herd. Soon they succeeded in turning the leaders back. These +threw into confusion those that followed. In a few moments the cattle +had stopped. A cordon of horsemen sat at equal distances holding them +in. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty good haul," said the man next to me; "a good five thousand +head." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0106"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CUTTING OUT +</H3> + +<P> +It was somewhere near noon by the time we had bunched and held the herd +of some four or five thousand head in the smooth, wide flat, free from +bushes and dog holes. Each sat at ease on his horse facing the cattle, +watching lazily the clouds of dust and the shifting beasts, but ready +at any instant to turn back the restless or independent individuals +that might break for liberty. +</P> + +<P> +Out of the haze came Homer, the round-up captain, on an easy lope. As +he passed successively the sentries he delivered to each a low command, +but without slacking pace. Some of those spoken to wheeled their +horses and rode away. The others settled themselves in their saddles +and began to roll cigarettes. +</P> + +<P> +"Change horses; get something to eat," said he to me; so I swung after +the file traveling at a canter over the low swells beyond the plain. +</P> + +<P> +The remuda had been driven by its leaders to a corner of the pasture's +wire fence, and there held. As each man arrived he dismounted, threw +off his saddle, and turned his animal loose. Then he flipped a loop in +his rope and disappeared in the eddying herd. The discarded horse, +with many grunts, indulged in a satisfying roll, shook himself +vigorously, and walked slowly away. His labour was over for the day, +and he knew it, and took not the slightest trouble to get out of the +way of the men with the swinging ropes. +</P> + +<P> +Not so the fresh horses, however. They had no intention of being +caught, if they could help it, but dodged and twisted, hid and doubled +behind the moving screen of their friends. The latter, seeming as +usual to know they were not wanted, made no effort to avoid the men, +which probably accounted in great measure for the fact that the herd as +a body remained compact, in spite of the cowboys threading it, and in +spite of the lack of an enclosure. +</P> + +<P> +Our horses caught, we saddled as hastily as possible; and then at the +top speed of our fresh and eager ponies we swept down on the chuck +wagon. There we fell off our saddles and descended on the meat and +bread like ravenous locusts on a cornfield. The ponies stood where we +left them, "tied to the ground", the cattle-country fashion. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as a man had stoked up for the afternoon he rode away. Some +finished before others, so across the plain formed an endless +procession of men returning to the herd, and of those whom they +replaced coming for their turn at the grub. +</P> + +<P> +We found the herd quiet. Some were even lying down, chewing their cuds +as peacefully as any barnyard cows. Most, however, stood ruminative, or +walked slowly to and fro in the confines allotted by the horsemen, so +that the herd looked from a distance like a brown carpet whose pattern +was constantly changing—a dusty brown carpet in the process of being +beaten. I relieved one of the watchers, and settled myself for a wait. +</P> + +<P> +At this close inspection the different sorts of cattle showed more +distinctly their characteristics. The cows and calves generally rested +peacefully enough, the calf often lying down while the mother stood +guard over it. Steers, however, were more restless. They walked +ceaselessly, threading their way in and out among the standing cattle, +pausing in brutish amazement at the edge of the herd, and turning back +immediately to endless journeyings. The bulls, excited by so much +company forced on their accustomed solitary habit, roared defiance at +each other until the air fairly trembled. Occasionally two would clash +foreheads. Then the powerful animals would push and wrestle, trying +for a chance to gore. The decision of supremacy was a question of but +a few minutes, and a bloody topknot the worst damage. The defeated one +side-stepped hastily and clumsily out of reach, and then walked away. +</P> + +<P> +Most of the time all we had to do was to sit our horses and watch these +things, to enjoy the warm bath of the Arizona sun, and to converse with +our next neighbours. Once in a while some enterprising cow, observing +the opening between the men, would start to walk out. Others would +fall in behind her until the movement would become general. Then one +of us would swing his leg off the pommel and jog his pony over to head +them off. They would return peacefully enough. +</P> + +<P> +But one black muley cow, with a calf as black and muley as herself, was +more persistent. Time after time, with infinite patience, she tried it +again the moment my back was turned. I tried driving her far into the +herd. No use; she always returned. Quirtings and stones had no effect +on her mild and steady persistence. +</P> + +<P> +"She's a San Simon cow," drawled my neighbour. "Everybody knows her. +She's at every round-up, just naturally raisin' hell." +</P> + +<P> +When the last man had returned from chuck, Homer made the dispositions +for the cut. There were present probably thirty men from the home +ranches round about, and twenty representing owners at a distance, here +to pick up the strays inevitable to the season's drift. The round-up +captain appointed two men to hold the cow-and-calf cut, and two more to +hold the steer cut. Several of us rode into the herd, while the +remainder retained their positions as sentinels to hold the main body +of cattle in shape. +</P> + +<P> +Little G and I rode slowly among the cattle looking everywhere. The +animals moved sluggishly aside to give us passage, and closed in as +sluggishly behind us, so that we were always closely hemmed in wherever +we went. Over the shifting sleek backs, through the eddying clouds of +dust, I could make out the figures of my companions moving slowly, +apparently aimlessly, here and there. +</P> + +<P> +Our task for the moment was to search out the unbranded J H calves. +Since in ranks so closely crowded it would be physically impossible +actually to see an animal's branded flank, we depended entirely on the +ear-marks. +</P> + +<P> +Did you ever notice how any animal, tame or wild, always points his +ears inquiringly in the direction of whatever interests or alarms him? +Those ears are for the moment his most prominent feature. So when a +brand is quite indistinguishable because, as now, of press of numbers, +or, as in winter, from extreme length of hair, the cropped ears tell +plainly the tale of ownership. As every animal is so marked when +branded, it follows that an uncut pair of ears means that its owner has +never felt the iron. +</P> + +<P> +So, now we had to look first of all for calves with uncut ears. After +discovering one, we had to ascertain his ownership by examining the +ear-marks of his mother, by whose side he was sure, in this alarming +multitude, to be clinging faithfully. +</P> + +<P> +Calves were numerous, and J H cows everywhere to be seen, so in +somewhat less than ten seconds I had my eye on a mother and son. +Immediately I turned Little G in their direction. At the slap of my +quirt against the stirrup, all the cows immediately about me shrank +suspiciously aside. Little G stepped forward daintily, his nostrils +expanding, his ears working back and forth, trying to the best of his +ability to understand which animals I had selected. The cow and her +calf turned in toward the centre of the herd. A touch of the reins +guided the pony. At once he comprehended. From that time on he needed +no further directions. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously, patiently, with great skill, he forced the cow through the +press toward the edge of the herd. It had to be done very quietly, at +a foot pace, so as to alarm neither the objects of pursuit nor those +surrounding them. When the cow turned back, Little G somehow happened +always in her way. Before she knew it she was at the outer edge of the +herd. There she found herself, with a group of three or four +companions, facing the open plain. Instinctively she sought shelter. +I felt Little G's muscles tighten beneath me. The moment for action +had come. Before the cow had a chance to dodge among her companions +the pony was upon her like a thunderbolt. She broke in alarm, trying +desperately to avoid the rush. There ensued an exciting contest of +dodgings, turnings, and doublings. Wherever she turned Little G was +before her. Some of his evolutions were marvellous. All I had to do +was to sit my saddle, and apply just that final touch of judgment +denied even the wisest of the lower animals. Time and again the turn +was so quick that the stirrup swept the ground. At last the cow, +convinced of the uselessness of further effort to return, broke away on +a long lumbering run to the open plain. She was stopped and held by +the men detailed, and so formed the nucleus of the new cut-herd. +Immediately Little G, his ears working in conscious virtue, jog-trotted +back into the herd, ready for another. +</P> + +<P> +After a dozen cows had been sent across to the cut-herd, the work +simplified. Once a cow caught sight of this new band, she generally +made directly for it, head and tail up. After the first short struggle +to force her from the herd, all I had to do was to start her in the +proper direction and keep her at it until her decision was fixed. If +she was too soon left to her own devices, however, she was likely to +return. An old cowman knows to a second just the proper moment to +abandon her. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes, in spite of our best efforts a cow succeeded in circling us +and plunging into the main herd. The temptation was then strong to +plunge in also, and to drive her out by main force; but the temptation +had to be resisted. A dash into the thick of it might break the whole +band. At once, of his own accord, Little G dropped to his fast, +shuffling walk, and again we addressed ourselves to the task of pushing +her gently to the edge. +</P> + +<P> +This was all comparatively simple—almost any pony is fast enough for +the calf cut—but now Homer gave orders for the steer cut to begin, and +steers are rapid and resourceful and full of natural cussedness. +Little G and I were relieved by Windy Bill, and betook ourselves to the +outside of the herd. +</P> + +<P> +Here we had leisure to observe the effects that up to this moment we +had ourselves been producing. The herd, restless by reason of the +horsemen threading it, shifted, gave ground, expanded, and contracted, +so that its shape and size were always changing in the constant area +guarded by the sentinel cowboys. Dust arose from these movements, +clouds of it, to eddy and swirl, thicken and dissipate in the currents +of air. Now it concealed all but the nearest dimly-outlined animals; +again it parted in rifts through which mistily we discerned the riders +moving in and out of the fog; again it lifted high and thin, so that we +saw in clarity the whole herd and the outriders and the mesas far away. +As the afternoon waned, long shafts of sun slanted through this dust. +It played on men and beasts magically, expanding them to the dimensions +of strange genii, appearing and effacing themselves in the billows of +vapour from some enchanted bottle. +</P> + +<P> +We on the outside found our sinecure of hot noon-tide filched from us +by the cooler hours. The cattle, wearied of standing, and perhaps +somewhat hungry and thirsty, grew more and more impatient. We rode +continually back and forth, turning the slow movement in on itself. +Occasionally some particularly enterprising cow would conclude that one +or another of the cut-herds would suit her better than this mill of +turmoil. She would start confidently out, head and tail up, find +herself chased back, get stubborn on the question, and lead her pursuer +a long, hard run before she would return to her companions. Once in a +while one would even have to be roped and dragged back. For know, +before something happens to you, that you can chase a cow safely only +until she gets hot and winded. Then she stands her ground and gets +emphatically "on the peck." +</P> + +<P> +I remember very well when I first discovered this. It was after I had +had considerable cow work, too. I thought of cows as I had always seen +them—afraid of a horseman, easy to turn with the pony, and willing to +be chased as far as necessary to the work. Nobody told me anything +different. One day we were making a drive in an exceedingly broken +country. I was bringing in a small bunch I had discovered in a pocket +of the hills, but was excessively annoyed by one old cow that insisted +on breaking back. In the wisdom of further experience, I now conclude +that she probably had a calf in the brush. Finally she got away +entirely. After starting the bunch well ahead, I went after her. +</P> + +<P> +Well, the cow and I ran nearly side by side for as much as half a mile +at top speed. She declined to be headed. Finally she fell down and +was so entirely winded that she could not get up. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, old girl, I've got you!" said I, and set myself to urging her to +her feet. +</P> + +<P> +The pony acted somewhat astonished, and suspicious of the job. Therein +he knew a lot more than I did. But I insisted, and, like a good pony, +he obeyed. I yelled at the cow, and slapped my bat, and used my quirt. +When she had quite recovered her wind, she got slowly to her feet—and +charged me in a most determined manner. +</P> + +<P> +Now, a bull, or a steer, is not difficult to dodge. He lowers his +head, shuts his eyes, and comes in on one straight rush. But a cow +looks to see what she is doing; her eyes are open every minute, and it +overjoys her to take a side hook at you even when you succeed in +eluding her direct charge. +</P> + +<P> +The pony I was riding did his best, but even then could not avoid a +sharp prod that would have ripped him up had not my leather bastos +intervened. Then we retired to a distance in order to plan further; +but we did not succeed in inducing that cow to revise her ideas, so at +last we left her. When, in some chagrin, I mentioned to the round-up +captain the fact that I had skipped one animal, he merely laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, kid," said he, "you can't do nothin' with a cow that gets on the +prod that away 'thout you ropes her; and what could you do with her out +there if you DID rope her?" +</P> + +<P> +So I learned one thing more about cows. +</P> + +<P> +After the steer cut had been finished, the men representing the +neighbouring ranges looked through the herd for strays of their brands. +These were thrown into the stray-herd, which had been brought up from +the bottom lands to receive the new accessions. Work was pushed +rapidly, as the afternoon was nearly gone. +</P> + +<P> +In fact, so absorbed were we that until it was almost upon us we did +not notice a heavy thunder-shower that arose in the region of the +Dragoon Mountains, and swept rapidly across the zenith. Before we knew +it the rain had begun. In ten seconds it had increased to a deluge, +and in twenty we were all to leeward of the herd striving desperately +to stop the drift of the cattle down wind. +</P> + +<P> +We did everything in our power to stop them, but in vain. Slickers +waved, quirts slapped against leather, six-shooters flashed, but still +the cattle, heads lowered, advanced with slow and sullen persistence +that would not be stemmed. If we held our ground, they divided around +us. Step by step we were forced to give way—the thin line of +nervously plunging horses sprayed before the dense mass of the cattle. +</P> + +<P> +"No, they won't stampede," shouted Charley to my question. "There's +cows and calves in them. If they was just steers or grown critters, +they might." +</P> + +<P> +The sensations of those few moments were very vivid—the blinding beat +of the storm in my face, the unbroken front of horned heads bearing +down on me, resistless as fate, the long slant of rain with the sun +shining in the distance beyond it. +</P> + +<P> +Abruptly the downpour ceased. We shook our hats free of water, and +drove the herd back to the cutting grounds again. +</P> + +<P> +But now the surface of the ground was slippery, and the rapid +manoeuvring of horses had become a matter precarious in the extreme. +Time and again the ponies fairly sat on their haunches and slid when +negotiating a sudden stop, while quick turns meant the rapid +scramblings that only a cow-horse could accomplish. Nevertheless the +work went forward unchecked. The men of the other outfits cut their +cattle into the stray-herd. The latter was by now of considerable +size, for this was the third week of the round-up. +</P> + +<P> +Finally everyone expressed himself as satisfied. The largely +diminished main herd was now started forward by means of shrill cowboy +cries and beating of quirts. The cattle were only too eager to go. +From my position on a little rise above the stray-herd I could see the +leaders breaking into a run, their heads thrown forward as they snuffed +their freedom. On the mesa side the sentinel riders quietly withdrew. +From the rear and flanks the horsemen closed in. The cattle poured out +in a steady stream through the opening thus left on the mesa side. The +fringe of cowboys followed, urging them on. Abruptly the cavalcade +turned and came loping back. The cattle continued ahead on a trot, +gradually spreading abroad over the landscape, losing their integrity +as a herd. Some of the slower or hungrier dropped out and began to +graze. Certain of the more wary disappeared to right or left. +</P> + +<P> +Now, after the day's work was practically over, we had our first +accident. The horse ridden by a young fellow from Dos Cabesas slipped, +fell, and rolled quite over his rider. At once the animal lunged to +his feet, only to be immediately seized by the nearest rider. But the +Dos Cabesas man lay still, his arms and legs spread abroad, his head +doubled sideways in a horribly suggestive manner. We hopped off. Two +men straightened him out, while two more looked carefully over the +indications on the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," sang out one of them, "the horn didn't catch him." +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to the indentation left by the pommel. Indeed five minutes +brought the man to his senses. He complained of a very twisted back. +Homer set one of the men in after the bed-wagon, by means of which the +sufferer was shortly transported to camp. By the end of the week he +was again in the saddle. How men escape from this common accident with +injuries so slight has always puzzled me. The horse rolls completely +over his rider, and yet it seems to be the rarest thing in the world +for the latter to be either killed or permanently injured. +</P> + +<P> +Now each man had the privilege of looking through the J H cuts to see +if by chance steers of his own had been included in them. When all had +expressed themselves as satisfied, the various bands were started to +the corrals. +</P> + +<P> +From a slight eminence where I had paused to enjoy the evening I looked +down on the scene. The three herds, separated by generous distance one +from the other, crawled leisurely along; the riders, their hats thrust +back, lolled in their saddles, shouting conversation to each other, +relaxing after the day's work; through the clouds strong shafts of +light belittled the living creatures, threw into proportion the +vastness of the desert. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0107"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A CORNER IN HORSES +</H3> + +<P> +It was dark night. The stay-herd bellowed frantically from one of the +big corrals; the cow-and-calf-herd from a second. Already the remuda, +driven in from the open plains, scattered about the thousand acres of +pasture. Away from the conveniences of fence and corral, men would +have had to patrol all night. Now, however, everyone was gathered +about the camp fire. +</P> + +<P> +Probably forty cowboys were in the group, representing all types, from +old John, who had been in the business forty years, and had punched +from the Rio Grande to the Pacific, to the Kid, who would have given +his chance of salvation if he could have been taken for ten years older +than he was. At the moment Jed Parker was holding forth to his friend +Johnny Stone in reference to another old crony who had that evening +joined the round-up. +</P> + +<P> +"Johnny," inquired Jed with elaborate gravity, and entirely ignoring +the presence of the subject of conversation, "what is that thing just +beyond the fire, and where did it come from?" +</P> + +<P> +Johnny Stone squinted to make sure. +</P> + +<P> +"That?" he replied. "Oh, this evenin' the dogs see something run down +a hole, and they dug it out, and that's what they got." +</P> + +<P> +The newcomer grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"The trouble with you fellows," he proffered "is that you're so plumb +alkalied you don't know the real thing when you see it." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," supplemented Windy Bill drily. "HE come from New York." +</P> + +<P> +"No!" cried Jed. "You don't say so? Did he come in one box or in two?" +</P> + +<P> +Under cover of the laugh, the newcomer made a raid on the dutch ovens +and pails. Having filled his plate, he squatted on his heels and fell +to his belated meal. He was a tall, slab-sided individual, with a +lean, leathery face, a sweeping white moustache, and a grave and +sardonic eye. His leather chaps were plain and worn, and his hat had +been fashioned by time and wear into much individuality. I was not +surprised to hear him nicknamed Sacatone Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Just ask him how he got that game foot," suggested Johnny Stone to me +in an undertone, so, of course, I did not. +</P> + +<P> +Later someone told me that the lameness resulted from his refusal of an +urgent invitation to return across a river. Mr. Sacatone Bill happened +not to be riding his own horse at the time. +</P> + +<P> +The Cattleman dropped down beside me a moment later. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish," said he in a low voice, "we could get that fellow talking. +He is a queer one. Pretty well educated apparently. Claims to be +writing a book of memoirs. Sometimes he will open up in good shape, +and sometimes he will not. It does no good to ask him direct, and he +is as shy as an old crow when you try to lead him up to a subject. We +must just lie low and trust to Providence." +</P> + +<P> +A man was playing on the mouth organ. He played excellently well, with +all sorts of variations and frills. We smoked in silence. The deep +rumble of the cattle filled the air with its diapason. Always the +shrill coyotes raved out in the mesquite. Sacatone Bill had finished +his meal, and had gone to sit by Jed Parker, his old friend. They +talked together low-voiced. The evening grew, and the eastern sky +silvered over the mountains in anticipation of the moon. +</P> + +<P> +Sacatone Bill suddenly threw back his head and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Reminds me of the time I went to Colorado!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"He's off!" whispered the Cattleman. +</P> + +<P> +A dead silence fell on the circle. Everybody shifted position the +better to listen to the story of Sacatone Bill. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +About ten year ago I got plumb sick of punchin' cows around my part of +the country. She hadn't rained since Noah, and I'd forgot what water +outside a pail or a trough looked like. So I scouted around inside of +me to see what part of the world I'd jump to, and as I seemed to know +as little of Colorado and minin' as anything else, I made up the pint +of bean soup I call my brains to go there. So I catches me a buyer at +Henson and turns over my pore little bunch of cattle and prepared to +fly. The last day I hauled up about twenty good buckets of water and +threw her up against the cabin. My buyer was settin' his hoss waitin' +for me to get ready. He didn't say nothin' until we'd got down about +ten mile or so. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Hicks," says he, hesitatin' like, "I find it a good rule in this +country not to overlook other folks' plays, but I'd take it mighty kind +if you'd explain those actions of yours with the pails of water." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Jones," says I, "it's very simple. I built that shack five year +ago, and it's never rained since. I just wanted to settle in my mind +whether or not that damn roof leaked." +</P> + +<P> +So I quit Arizona, and in about a week I see my reflection in the +winders of a little place called Cyanide in the Colorado mountains. +</P> + +<P> +Fellows, she was a bird. They wasn't a pony in sight, nor a squar' +foot of land that wasn't either street or straight up. It made me +plumb lonesome for a country where you could see a long ways even if +you didn't see much. And this early in the evenin' they wasn't hardly +anybody in the streets at all. +</P> + +<P> +I took a look at them dark, gloomy, old mountains, and a sniff at a +breeze that would have frozen the whiskers of hope, and I made a dive +for the nearest lit winder. They was a sign over it that just said: +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 7.5em">THIS IS A SALOON</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +I was glad they labelled her. I'd never have known it. They had a +fifteen-year old kid tendin' bar, no games goin', and not a soul in the +place. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry to disturb your repose, bub," says I, "but see if you can sort +out any rye among them collections of sassapariller of yours." +</P> + +<P> +I took a drink, and then another to keep it company—I was beginnin' to +sympathise with anythin' lonesome. Then I kind of sauntered out to the +back room where the hurdy-gurdy ought to be. +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough, there was a girl settin' on the pianner stool, another in +a chair, and a nice shiny Jew drummer danglin' his feet from a table. +They looked up when they see me come in, and went right on talkin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, girls!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +At that they stopped talkin' complete. +</P> + +<P> +"How's tricks?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's your woolly friend?" the shiny Jew asks of the girls. +</P> + +<P> +I looked at him a minute, but I see he'd been raised a pet, and then, +too, I was so hungry for sassiety I was willin' to pass a bet or two. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you ADMIRE these cow gents?" snickers one of the girls. +</P> + +<P> +"Play somethin', sister," says I to the one at the pianner. +</P> + +<P> +She just grinned at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Interdooce me," says the drummer in a kind of a way that made them all +laugh a heap. +</P> + +<P> +"Give us a tune," I begs, tryin' to be jolly, too. +</P> + +<P> +"She don't know any pieces," says the Jew. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you?" I asks pretty sharp. +</P> + +<P> +"No," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I do," says I. +</P> + +<P> +I walked up to her, jerked out my guns, and reached around both sides +of her to the pianner. I run the muzzles up and down the keyboard two +or three times, and then shot out half a dozen keys. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the piece I know," says I. +</P> + +<P> +But the other girl and the Jew drummer had punched the breeze. +</P> + +<P> +The girl at the pianner just grinned, and pointed to the winder where +they was some ragged glass hangin'. She was dead game. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Susie," says I, "you're all right, but your friends is tur'ble. +I may be rough, and I ain't never been curried below the knees, but I'm +better to tie to than them sons of guns." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe it," says she. +</P> + +<P> +So we had a drink at the bar, and started out to investigate the +wonders of Cyanide. +</P> + +<P> +Say, that night was a wonder. Susie faded after about three drinks, +but I didn't seem to mind that. I hooked up to another saloon kept by +a thin Dutchman. A fat Dutchman is stupid, but a thin one is all right. +</P> + +<P> +In ten minutes I had more friends in Cyanide than they is fiddlers in +hell. I begun to conclude Cyanide wasn't so lonesome. About four +o'clock in comes a little Irishman about four foot high, with more +upper lip than a muley cow, and enough red hair to make an artificial +aurorer borealis. He had big red hands with freckles pasted onto them, +and stiff red hairs standin' up separate and lonesome like signal +stations. Also his legs was bowed. +</P> + +<P> +He gets a drink at the bar, and stands back and yells: +</P> + +<P> +"God bless the Irish and let the Dutch rustle!" +</P> + +<P> +Now, this was none of my town, so I just stepped back of the end of the +bar quick where I wouldn't stop no lead. The shootin' didn't begin. +</P> + +<P> +"Probably Dutchy didn't take no note of what the locoed little dogie +DID say," thinks I to myself. +</P> + +<P> +The Irishman bellied up to the bar again, and pounded on it with his +fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here!" he yells. "Listen to what I'm tellin' ye! God bless the +Irish and let the Dutch rustle! Do ye hear me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I hear ye," says Dutchy, and goes on swabbin' his bar with a +towel. +</P> + +<P> +At that my soul just grew sick. I asked the man next to me why Dutchy +didn't kill the little fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"Kill him!" says this man. "What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"For insultin' of him, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's drunk," says the man, as if that explained anythin'. +</P> + +<P> +That settled it with me. I left that place, and went home, and it +wasn't more than four o'clock, neither. No, I don't call four o'clock +late. It may be a little late for night before last, but it's just the +shank of the evenin' for to-night. +</P> + +<P> +Well, it took me six weeks and two days to go broke. I didn't know sic +em, about minin'; and before long I KNEW that I didn't 'know sic 'em. +Most all day I poked around them mountains—-not like our'n—too much +timber to be comfortable. At night I got to droppin' in at Dutchy's. +He had a couple of quiet games goin', and they was one fellow among +that lot of grubbin' prairie dogs that had heerd tell that cows had +horns. He was the wisest of the bunch on the cattle business. So I +stowed away my consolation, and made out to forget comparing Colorado +with God's country. +</P> + +<P> +About three times a week this Irishman I told you of—name +O'Toole—comes bulgin' in. When he was sober he talked minin' high, +wide, and handsome. When he was drunk he pounded both fists on the bar +and yelled for action, tryin' to get Dutchy on the peck. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless the Irish and let the Dutch rustle!" he yells about six +times. "Say, do you hear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says Dutchy, calm as a milk cow, "sure, I hears ye!" +</P> + +<P> +I was plumb sorry for O'Toole. I'd like to have given him a run; but, +of course, I couldn't take it up without makin' myself out a friend of +this Dutchy party, and I couldn't stand for that. But I did tackle +Dutchy about it one night when they wasn't nobody else there. +</P> + +<P> +"Dutchy," says I, "what makes you let that bow-legged cross between a +bulldog and a flamin' red sunset tromp on you so? It looks to me like +you're plumb spiritless." +</P> + +<P> +Dutchy stopped wiping glasses for a minute. +</P> + +<P> +"Just you hold on" says he. "I ain't ready yet. Bimeby I make him +sick; also those others who laugh with him." +</P> + +<P> +He had a little grey flicker in his eye, and I thinks to myself that +maybe they'd get Dutchy on the peck yet. +</P> + +<P> +As I said, I went broke in just six weeks and two days. And I was +broke a plenty. No hold-outs anywhere. It was a heap long ways to +cows; and I'd be teetotally chawed up and spit out if I was goin' to +join these minin' terrapins defacin' the bosom of nature. It sure +looked to me like hard work. +</P> + +<P> +While I was figurin' what next, Dutchy came in. Which I was tur'ble +surprised at that, but I said good-mornin' and would he rest his poor +feet. +</P> + +<P> +"You like to make some money?" he asks. +</P> + +<P> +"That depends," says I, "on how easy it is." +</P> + +<P> +"It is easy," says he. "I want you to buy hosses for me." +</P> + +<P> +"Hosses! Sure!" I yells, jumpin' up. "You bet you! Why, hosses is +where I live! What hosses do you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"All hosses," says he, calm as a faro dealer. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" says I. "Elucidate, my bucko. I don't take no such blanket +order. Spread your cards." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean just that," says he. "I want you to buy all the hosses in this +camp, and in the mountains. Every one." +</P> + +<P> +"Whew!" I whistles. "That's a large order. But I'm your meat." +</P> + +<P> +"Come with me, then," says he. I hadn't but just got up, but I went +with him to his little old poison factory. Of course, I hadn't had no +breakfast; but he staked me to a Kentucky breakfast. What's a Kentucky +breakfast? Why, a Kentucky breakfast is a three-pound steak, a bottle +of whisky, and a setter dog. What's the dog for? Why, to eat the +steak, of course. +</P> + +<P> +We come to an agreement. I was to get two-fifty a head commission. So +I started out. There wasn't many hosses in that country, and what +there was the owners hadn't much use for unless it was to work a whim. +I picked up about a hundred head quick enough, and reported to Dutchy. +</P> + +<P> +"How about burros and mules?" I asks Dutchy. +</P> + +<P> +"They goes," says he. "Mules same as hosses; burros four bits a head to +you." +</P> + +<P> +At the end of a week I had a remuda of probably two hundred animals. +We kept them over the hills in some "parks," as these sots call meadows +in that country. I rode into town and told Dutchy. +</P> + +<P> +"Got them all?" he asks. +</P> + +<P> +"All but a cross-eyed buckskin that's mean, and the bay mare that Noah +bred to." +</P> + +<P> +"Get them," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"The bandits want too much," I explains. +</P> + +<P> +"Get them anyway," says he. +</P> + +<P> +I went away and got them. It was scand'lous; such prices. +</P> + +<P> +When I hit Cyanide again I ran into scenes of wild excitement. The +whole passel of them was on that one street of their'n, talkin' sixteen +ounces to the pound. In the middle was Dutchy, drunk as a soldier-just +plain foolish drunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord!" thinks I to myself, "he ain't celebratin' gettin' that +bunch of buzzards, is he?" +</P> + +<P> +But I found he wasn't that bad. When he caught sight of me, he fell on +me drivellin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Look there!" he weeps, showin' me a letter. +</P> + +<P> +I was the last to come in; so I kept that letter—here she is. I'll +read her. +</P> + +<P> +Dear Dutchy:—I suppose you thought I'd flew the coop, but I haven't +and this is to prove it. Pack up your outfit and hit the trail. I've +made the biggest free gold strike you ever see. I'm sending you +specimens. There's tons just like it, tons and tons. I got all the +claims I can hold myself; but there's heaps more. I've writ to Johnny +and Ed at Denver to come on. Don't give this away. Make tracks. Come +in to Buck Canon in the Whetstones and oblige. +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 12.5em">Yours truly,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 14em">Henry Smith</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Somebody showed me a handful of white rock with yeller streaks in it. +His eyes was bulgin' until you could have hung your hat on them. That +O'Toole party was walkin' around, wettin' his lips with his tongue and +swearin' soft. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless the Irish and let the Dutch rustle!" says he. "And the fool +had to get drunk and give it away!" +</P> + +<P> +The excitement was just started, but it didn't last long. The crowd +got the same notion at the same time, and it just melted. Me and +Dutchy was left alone. +</P> + +<P> +I went home. Pretty soon a fellow named Jimmy Tack come around a +little out of breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you know that buckskin you bought off'n me?" says he, "I want to +buy him back." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you do," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says he. "I've got to leave town for a couple of days, and I +got to have somethin' to pack." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait and I'll see," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Outside the door I met another fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," he stops me with. "How about that bay mare I sold you? +Can you call that sale off? I got to leave town for a day or two and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait," says I. "I'll see." +</P> + +<P> +By the gate was another hurryin' up. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says I when he opens his mouth. "I know all your troubles. +You have to leave town for a couple of days, and you want back that +lizard you sold me. Well, wait." +</P> + +<P> +After that I had to quit the main street and dodge back of the hog +ranch. They was all headed my way. I was as popular as a snake in a +prohibition town. +</P> + +<P> +I hit Dutchy's by the back door. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to sell hosses?" I asks. "Everyone in town wants to buy." +</P> + +<P> +Dutchy looked hurt. +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to keep them for the valley market," says he, "but—How much +did you give Jimmy Tack for his buckskin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, let him have it for eighty," says Dutchy; "and the others in +proportion." +</P> + +<P> +I lay back and breathed hard. +</P> + +<P> +"Sell them all, but the one best hoss," says he—"no, the TWO best." +</P> + +<P> +"Holy smoke!" says I, gettin' my breath. "If you mean that, Dutchy, you +lend me another gun and give me a drink." +</P> + +<P> +He done so, and I went back home to where the whole camp of Cyanide was +waitin'. +</P> + +<P> +I got up and made them a speech and told them I'd sell them hosses all +right, and to come back. Then I got an Injin boy to help, and we +rustled over the remuda and held them in a blind canon. Then I called +up these miners one at a time, and made bargains with them. Roar! +Well, you could hear them at Denver, they tell me, and the weather +reports said, "Thunder in the mountains." But it was cash on delivery, +and they all paid up. They had seen that white quartz with the gold +stickin' into it, and that's the same as a dose of loco to miner gents. +</P> + +<P> +Why didn't I take a hoss and start first? I did think of it—for about +one second. I wouldn't stay in that country then for a million dollars +a minute. I was plumb sick and loathin' it, and just waitin' to make +high jumps back to Arizona. So I wasn't aimin' to join this stampede, +and didn't have no vivid emotions. +</P> + +<P> +They got to fightin' on which should get the first hoss; so I bent my +gun on them and made them draw lots. They roared some more, but done +so; and as fast as each one handed over his dust or dinero he made a +rush for his cabin, piled on his saddle and pack, and pulled his +freight on a cloud of dust. It was sure a grand stampede, and I +enjoyed it no limit. +</P> + +<P> +So by sundown I was alone with the Injin. Those two hundred head +brought in about twenty thousand dollars. It was heavy, but I could +carry it. I was about alone in the landscape; and there were the two +best hosses I had saved out for Dutchy. I was sure some tempted. But +I had enough to get home on anyway; and I never yet drank behind the +bar, even if I might hold up the saloon from the floor. So I grieved +some inside that I was so tur'ble conscientious, shouldered the sacks, +and went down to find Dutchy. +</P> + +<P> +I met him headed his way, and carryin' of a sheet of paper. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's your dinero," says I, dumpin' the four big sacks on the ground. +</P> + +<P> +He stooped over and hefted them. Then he passed one over to me. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that for?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"For you," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"My commission ain't that much," I objects. +</P> + +<P> +"You've earned it," says he, "and you might have skipped with the whole +wad." +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know I wouldn't?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says he, and I noted that jag of his had flew. "You see, I was +behind that rock up there, and I had you covered." +</P> + +<P> +I saw; and I began to feel better about bein' so tur'ble conscientious. +</P> + +<P> +We walked a little ways without sayin' nothin'. +</P> + +<P> +"But ain't you goin' to join the game?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess not," says he, jinglin' of his gold. "I'm satisfied." +</P> + +<P> +"But if you don't get a wiggle on you, you are sure goin' to get left +on those gold claims," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't no gold claims," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"But Henry Smith—" I cries. +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't no Henry Smith," says he. +</P> + +<P> +I let that soak in about six inches. +</P> + +<P> +"But there's a Buck Canon," I pleads. "Please say there's a Buck Canon." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, there's a Buck Canon," he allows. "Nice limestone +formation—make good hard water." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you're a marvel," says I. +</P> + +<P> +We walked together down to Dutchy's saloon. +</P> + +<P> +We stopped outside. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," says he, "I'm goin' to take one of those hosses and go +somewheres else. Maybe you'd better do likewise on the other." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet I will," says I. +</P> + +<P> +He turned around and taked up the paper he was carryin'. It was a +sign. It read: +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 5em">THE DUTCH HAS RUSTLED</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Nice sentiment," says I. "It will be appreciated when the crowd comes +back from that little pasear into Buck Canon. But why not tack her up +where the trail hits the camp? Why on this particular door?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Dutchy, squintin' at the sign sideways, "you see I sold +this place day before yesterday—to Mike O'Toole." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0108"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER EIGHT +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CORRAL BRANDING +</H3> + +<P> +All that night we slept like sticks of wood. No dreams visited us, but +in accordance with the immemorial habit of those who live out—whether +in the woods, on the plains, among the mountains, or at sea—once +during the night each of us rose on his elbow, looked about him, and +dropped back to sleep. If there had been a fire to replenish, that +would have been the moment to do so; if the wind had been changing and +the seas rising, that would have been the time to cast an eye aloft for +indications, to feel whether the anchor cable was holding; if the +pack-horses had straggled from the alpine meadows under the snows, this +would have been the occasion for intent listening for the faintly +tinkling hell so that next day one would know in which direction to +look. But since there existed for us no responsibility, we each +reported dutifully at the roll-call of habit, and dropped back into our +blankets with a grateful sigh. +</P> + +<P> +I remember the moon sailing a good gait among apparently stationary +cloudlets; I recall a deep, black shadow lying before distant silvery +mountains; I glanced over the stark, motionless canvases, each of which +concealed a man; the air trembled with the bellowing of cattle in the +corrals. +</P> + +<P> +Seemingly but a moment later the cook's howl brought me to +consciousness again. A clear, licking little fire danced in the +blackness. Before it moved silhouettes of men already eating. +</P> + +<P> +I piled out and joined the group. Homer was busy distributing his men +for the day. Three were to care for the remuda; five were to move the +stray-herd from the corrals to good feed; three branding crews were +told to brand the calves we had collected in the cut of the afternoon +before. That took up about half the men. The rest were to make a +short drive in the salt grass. I joined the Cattleman, and together we +made our way afoot to the branding pen. +</P> + +<P> +We were the only ones who did go afoot, however, although the corrals +were not more than two hundred yards' distant. When we arrived we +found the string of ponies standing around outside. Between the +upright bars of greasewood we could see the cattle, and near the +opposite side the men building a fire next the fence. We pushed open +the wide gate and entered. The three ropers sat their horses, idly +swinging the loops of their ropes back and forth. Three others brought +wood and arranged it craftily in such manner as to get best draught for +heatin,—a good branding fire is most decidedly a work of art. One +stood waiting for them to finish, a sheaf of long JH stamping irons in +his hand. All the rest squatted on their heels along the fence, +smoking cigarettes and chatting together. The first rays of the sun +slanted across in one great sweep from the remote mountains. +</P> + +<P> +In ten minutes Charley pronounced the irons ready. Homer, Wooden, and +old California John rode in among the cattle. The rest of the men +arose and stretched their legs and advanced. The Cattleman and I +climbed to the top bar of the gate, where we roosted, he with his +tally-book on his knee. +</P> + +<P> +Each rider swung his rope above his head with one hand, keeping the +broad loop open by a skilful turn of the wrist at the end of each +revolution. In a moment Homer leaned forward and threw. As the loop +settled, he jerked sharply upward, exactly as one would strike to hook +a big fish. This tightened the loop and prevented it from slipping +off. Immediately, and without waiting to ascertain the result of the +manoeuvre, the horse turned and began methodically, without undue +haste, to walk toward the branding fire. Homer wrapped the rope twice +or thrice about the horn, and sat over in one stirrup to avoid the +tightened line and to preserve the balance. Nobody paid any attention +to the calf. The critter had been caught by the two hind legs. As the +rope tightened, he was suddenly upset, and before he could realise that +something disagreeable was happening, he was sliding majestically along +on his belly. Behind him followed his anxious mother, her head +swinging from side to side. +</P> + +<P> +Near the fire the horse stopped. The two "bull-doggers" immediately +pounced upon the victim. It was promptly flopped over on its right +side. One knelt on its head and twisted back its foreleg in a sort of +hammer-lock; the other seized one hind foot, pressed his boot heel +against the other hind leg close to the body, and sat down behind the +animal. Thus the calf was unable to struggle. When once you have had +the wind knocked out of you, or a rib or two broken, you cease to think +this unnecessarily rough. Then one or the other threw off the rope. +Homer rode away, coiling the rope as he went. +</P> + +<P> +"Hot iron!" yelled one of the bull-doggers. +</P> + +<P> +"Marker!" yelled the other. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately two men ran forward. The brander pressed the iron smoothly +against the flank. A smoke and the smell of scorching hair arose. +Perhaps the calf blatted a little as the heat scorched. In a brief +moment it was over. The brand showed cherry, which is the proper +colour to indicate due peeling and a successful mark. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime the marker was engaged in his work. First, with a +sharp knife he cut off slanting the upper quarter of one ear. Then he +nicked out a swallow-tail in the other. The pieces he thrust into his +pocket in order that at the completion of the work he could thus check +the Cattleman's tally-board as to the number of calves branded.[3] The +bull-dogger let go. The calf sprang up, was appropriated and smelled +over by his worried mother, and the two departed into the herd to talk +it over. +</P> + +<P> +It seems to me that a great deal of unnecessary twaddle is abroad as to +the extreme cruelty of branding. Undoubtedly it is to some extent +painful, and could some other method of ready identification be +devised, it might be as well to adopt it in preference. But in the +circumstance of a free range, thousands of cattle, and hundreds of +owners, any other method is out of the question. I remember a New +England movement looking toward small brass tags to be hung from the +ear. Inextinguishable laughter followed the spread of this doctrine +through Arizona. Imagine a puncher descending to examine politely the +ear-tags of wild cattle on the open range or in a round-up. +</P> + +<P> +But, as I have intimated, even the inevitable branding and ear-marking +are not so painful as one might suppose. The scorching hardly +penetrates below the outer tough skin—only enough to kill the roots of +the hair—besides which it must be remembered that cattle are not so +sensitive as the higher nervous organisms. A calf usually bellows when +the iron bites, but as soon as released he almost invariably goes to +feeding or to looking idly about. Indeed, I have never seen one even +take the trouble to lick his wounds, which is certainly not true in the +case of the injuries they inflict on each other in fighting. Besides +which, it happens but once in a lifetime, and is over in ten seconds; a +comfort denied to those of us who have our teeth filled. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime two other calves had been roped by the two other men. +One of the little animals was but a few months old, so the rider did +not bother with its hind legs, but tossed his loop over its neck. +Naturally, when things tightened up, Mr. Calf entered his objections, +which took the form of most vigorous bawlings, and the most comical +bucking, pitching, cavorting, and bounding in the air. Mr. Frost's +bull-calf alone in pictorial history shows the attitudes. And then, of +course, there was the gorgeous contrast between all this frantic and +uncomprehending excitement and the absolute matter-of-fact +imperturbability of horse and rider. Once at the fire, one of the men +seized the tightened rope in one hand, reached well over the animal's +back to get a slack of the loose hide next the belly, lifted strongly, +and tripped. This is called "bull-dogging." As he knew his business, +and as the calf was a small one, the little beast went over promptly, +bit the ground with a whack, and was pounced upon and held. +</P> + +<P> +Such good luck did not always follow, however. An occasional and +exceedingly husky bull yearling declined to be upset in any such +manner. He would catch himself on one foot, scramble vigorously, and +end by struggling back to the upright. Then ten to one he made a dash +to get away. In such case he was generally snubbed up short enough at +the end of the rope; but once or twice he succeeded in running around a +group absorbed in branding. You can imagine what happened next. The +rope, attached at one end to a conscientious and immovable horse and at +the other to a reckless and vigorous little bull, swept its taut and +destroying way about mid-knee high across that group. The brander and +marker, who were standing, promptly sat down hard; the bull-doggers, +who were sitting, immediately turned several most capable somersaults; +the other calf arose and inextricably entangled his rope with that of +his accomplice. Hot irons, hot language, and dust filled the air. +</P> + +<P> +Another method, and one requiring slightly more knack, is to grasp the +animal's tail and throw it by a quick jerk across the pressure of the +rope. This is productive of some fun if it fails. +</P> + +<P> +By now the branding was in full swing. The three horses came and went +phlegmatically. When the nooses fell, they turned and walked toward +the fire as a matter of course. Rarely did the cast fail. Men ran to +and fro busy and intent. Sometimes three or four calves were on the +ground at once. Cries arose in a confusion: "Marker" "Hot iron!" +"Tally one!" Dust eddied and dissipated. Behind all were clear +sunlight and the organ roll of the cattle bellowing. +</P> + +<P> +Toward the middle of the morning the bull-doggers began to get a little +tired. +</P> + +<P> +"No more necked calves," they announced. "Catch 'em by the hind legs, +or bull-dog 'em yourself." +</P> + +<P> +And that went. Once in a while the rider, lazy, or careless, or +bothered by the press of numbers, dragged up a victim caught by the +neck. The bull-doggers flatly refused to have anything to do with it. +An obvious way out would have been to flip off the loop and try again; +but of course that would have amounted to a confession of wrong. +</P> + +<P> +"You fellows drive me plumb weary," remarked the rider, slowly +dismounting. "A little bit of a calf like that! What you all need is +a nigger to cut up your food for you!" +</P> + +<P> +Then he would spit on his hands and go at it alone. If luck attended +his first effort, his sarcasm was profound. +</P> + +<P> +"There's yore little calf," said he. "Would you like to have me tote +it to you, or do you reckon you could toddle this far with yore little +old iron?" +</P> + +<P> +But if the calf gave much trouble, then all work ceased while the +unfortunate puncher wrestled it down. +</P> + +<P> +Toward noon the work slacked. Unbranded calves were scarce. Sometimes +the men rode here and there for a minute or so before their eyes fell +on a pair of uncropped ears. Finally Homer rode over to the Cattleman +and reported the branding finished. The latter counted the marks in +his tally-book. +</P> + +<P> +"One hundred and seventy-six," he announced. +</P> + +<P> +The markers, squatted on their heels, told over the bits of ears they +had saved. The total amounted to but an hundred and seventy-five. +Everybody went to searching for the missing bit. It was not +forth-coming. Finally Wooden discovered it in his hip pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Felt her thar all the time," said he, "but thought it must shorely be +a chaw of tobacco." +</P> + +<P> +This matter satisfactorily adjusted, the men all ran for their ponies. +They had been doing a wrestler's heavy work all the morning, but did +not seem to be tired. I saw once in some crank physical culture +periodical that a cowboy's life was physically ill-balanced, like an +oarsman's, in that it exercised only certain muscles of the body. The +writer should be turned loose in a branding corral. +</P> + +<P> +Through the wide gates the cattle were urged out to the open plain. +There they were held for over an hour while the cows wandered about +looking for their lost progeny. A cow knows her calf by scent and +sound, not by sight. Therefore the noise was deafening, and the motion +incessant. +</P> + +<P> +Finally the last and most foolish cow found the last and most foolish +calf. We turned the herd loose to hunt water and grass at its own +pleasure, and went slowly back to chuck. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[3] For the benefit of the squeamish it might be well to note that the +fragments of the ears were cartilaginous, and therefore not bloody. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0109"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER NINE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OLD TIMER +</H3> + +<P> +About a week later, in the course of the round-up, we reached the +valley of the Box Springs, where we camped for some days at the +dilapidated and abandoned adobe structure that had once been a ranch +house of some importance. +</P> + +<P> +Just at dusk one afternoon we finished cutting the herd which our +morning's drive had collected. The stray-herd, with its new additions +from the day's work, we pushed rapidly into one big stock corral. The +cows and unbranded calves we urged into another. Fifty head of beef +steers found asylum from dust, heat, and racing to and fro, in the mile +square wire enclosure called the pasture. All the remainder, for which +we had no further use we drove out of the flat into the brush and +toward the distant mountains. Then we let them go as best pleased them. +</P> + +<P> +By now the desert bad turned slate-coloured, and the brush was olive +green with evening. The hard, uncompromising ranges, twenty miles to +eastward, had softened behind a wonderful veil of purple and pink, +vivid as the chiffon of a girl's gown. To the south and southwest the +Chiricahuas and Dragoons were lost in thunderclouds which flashed and +rumbled. +</P> + +<P> +We jogged homewards, our cutting ponies, tired with the quick, sharp +work, shuffling knee deep in a dusk that seemed to disengage itself and +rise upwards from the surface of the desert. Everybody was hungry and +tired. At the chuck wagon we threw off our saddles and turned the +mounts into the remuda. Some of the wisest of us, remembering the +thunderclouds, stacked our gear under the veranda roof of the old ranch +house. +</P> + +<P> +Supper was ready. We seized the tin battery, filled the plates with +the meat, bread, and canned corn, and squatted on our heels. The food +was good, and we ate hugely in silence. When we could hold no more we +lit pipes. Then we had leisure to notice that the storm cloud was +mounting in a portentous silence to the zenith, quenching the brilliant +desert stars. +</P> + +<P> +"Rolls" were scattered everywhere. A roll includes a cowboy's bed and +all of his personal belongings. When the outfit includes a bed-wagon, +the roll assumes bulky proportions. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as we had come to a definite conclusion that it was going to +rain, we deserted the camp fire and went rustling for our blankets. At +the end of ten minutes every bed was safe within the doors of the +abandoned adobe ranch house, each owner recumbent on the floor claim he +had pre-empted, and every man hoping fervently that he had guessed +right as to the location of leaks. +</P> + +<P> +Ordinarily we had depended on the light of camp fires, so now +artificial illumination lacked. Each man was indicated by the +alternately glowing and waning lozenge of his cigarette fire. +Occasionally someone struck a match, revealing for a moment high-lights +on bronzed countenances, and the silhouette of a shading hand. Voices +spoke disembodied. As the conversation developed, we gradually +recognised the membership of our own roomful. I had forgotten to state +that the ranch house included four chambers. Outside, the rain roared +with Arizona ferocity. Inside, men congratulated themselves, or swore +as leaks developed and localised. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally we talked first of stampedes. Cows and bears are the two +great cattle-country topics. Then we had a mouth-organ solo or two, +which naturally led on to songs. My turn came. I struck up the first +verse of a sailor chantey as possessing at least the interest of +novelty: +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">Oh, once we were a-sailing, a-sailing were we,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">Blow high, blow low, what care we;</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">And we were a-sailing to see what we could see,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">Down on the coast of the High Barbaree.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +I had just gone so far when I was brought up short by a tremendous oath +behind me. At the same instant a match flared. I turned to face a +stranger holding the little light above his head, and peering with +fiery intentness over the group sprawled about the floor. +</P> + +<P> +He was evidently just in from the storm. His dripping hat lay at his +feet. A shock of straight, close-clipped vigorous hair stood up grey +above his seamed forehead. Bushy iron-grey eyebrows drawn close +together thatched a pair of burning, unquenchable eyes. A square, deep +jaw, lightly stubbled with grey, was clamped so tight that the cheek +muscles above it stood out in knots and welts. +</P> + +<P> +Then the match burned his thick, square fingers, and he dropped it into +the darkness that ascended to swallow it. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was singing that song?" he cried harshly. Nobody answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was that singing?" he demanded again. +</P> + +<P> +By this time I had recovered from my first astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"I was singing," said I. +</P> + +<P> +Another match was instantly lit and thrust into my very face. I +underwent the fierce scrutiny of an instant, then the taper was thrown +away half consumed. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you learn it?" the stranger asked in an altered voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't remember," I replied; "it is a common enough deep-sea chantey." +</P> + +<P> +A heavy pause fell. Finally the stranger sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite like," he said; "I never heard but one man sing it." +</P> + +<P> +"Who in hell are you?" someone demanded out of the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Before replying, the newcomer lit a third match, searching for a place +to sit down. As he bent forward, his strong, harsh face once more came +clearly into view. +</P> + +<P> +"He's Colorado Rogers," the Cattleman answered for him; "I know him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," insisted the first voice, "what in hell does Colorado Rogers +mean by bustin' in on our song fiesta that way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell them, Rogers," advised the Cattleman, "tell them—just as you +told it down on the Gila ten years ago next month." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" inquired Rogers. "Who are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know me," replied the Cattleman, "but I was with Buck +Johnson's outfit then. Give us the yarn." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," agreed Rogers, "pass over the 'makings' and I will." +</P> + +<P> +He rolled and lit a cigarette, while I revelled in the memory of his +rich, great voice. It was of the sort made to declaim against the sea +or the rush of rivers or, as here, the fall of waters and the +thunder—full, from the chest, with the caressing throat vibration that +gives colour to the most ordinary statements. After ten words we sank +back oblivious of the storm, forgetful of the leaky roof and the dirty +floor, lost in the story told us by the Old Timer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0110"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TEXAS RANGERS +</H3> + +<P> +I came from Texas, like the bulk of you punchers, but a good while +before the most of you were born. That was forty-odd years ago—and +I've been on the Colorado River ever since. That's why they call me +Colorado Rogers. About a dozen of us came out together. We had all +been Texas Rangers, but when the war broke out we were out of a job. +We none of us cared much for the Johnny Rebs, and still less for the +Yanks, so we struck overland for the West, with the idea of hitting the +California diggings. +</P> + +<P> +Well, we got switched off one way and another. When we got down to +about where Douglas is now, we found that the Mexican Government was +offering a bounty for Apache scalps. That looked pretty good to us, +for Injin chasing was our job, so we started in to collect. Did pretty +well, too, for about three months, and then the Injins began to get too +scarce, or too plenty in streaks. Looked like our job was over with, +but some of the boys discovered that Mexicans, having straight black +hair, you couldn't tell one of their scalps from an Apache's. After +that the bounty business picked up for a while. It was too much for +me, though, and I quit the outfit and pushed on alone until I struck +the Colorado about where Yuma is now. +</P> + +<P> +At that time the California immigrants by the southern route used to +cross just there, and these Yuma Injins had a monopoly on the ferry +business. They were a peaceful, fine-looking lot, without a thing on +but a gee-string. The women had belts with rawhide strings hanging to +the knees. They put them on one over the other until they didn't feel +too decollotey. It wasn't until the soldiers came that the officers' +wives got them to wear handkerchiefs over their breasts. The system +was all right, though. They wallowed around in the hot, clean sand, +like chickens, and kept healthy. Since they took to wearing clothes +they've been petering out, and dying of dirt and assorted diseases. +</P> + +<P> +They ran this ferry monopoly by means of boats made of tules, charged a +scand'lous low price, and everything was happy and lovely. I ran on a +little bar and panned out some dust, so I camped a while, washing gold, +getting friendly with the Yumas, and talking horse and other things +with the immigrants. +</P> + +<P> +About a month of this, and the Texas boys drifted in. Seems they sort +of overdid the scalp matter, and got found out. When they saw me, they +stopped and went into camp. They'd travelled a heap of desert, and +were getting sick of it. For a while they tried gold washing, but I +had the only pocket—and that was about skinned. One evening a fellow +named Walleye announced that he had been doing some figuring, and +wanted to make a speech. We told him to fire ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Now look here," said he, "what's the use of going to California? Why +not stay here?" +</P> + +<P> +"What in hell would we do here?" someone asked. "Collect Gila monsters +for their good looks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't get gay," said Walleye. "What's the matter with going into +business? Here's a heap of people going through, and more coming every +day. This ferry business could be made to pay big. Them Injins +charges two bits a head. That's a crime for the only way across. And +how much do you suppose whisky'd be worth to drink after that desert? +And a man's so sick of himself by the time he gets this far that he'd +play chuck-a-luck, let alone faro or monte." +</P> + +<P> +That kind of talk hit them where they lived, and Yuma was founded right +then and there. They hadn't any whisky yet, but cards were plenty, and +the ferry monopoly was too easy. Walleye served notice on the Injins +that a dollar a head went; and we all set to building a tule raft like +the others. Then the wild bunch got uneasy, so they walked upstream +one morning and stole the Injins' boats. The Injins came after them +innocent as babies, thinking the raft had gone adrift. When they got +into camp our men opened up and killed four of them as a kind of hint. +After that the ferry company didn't have any trouble. The Yumas moved +up river a ways, where they've lived ever since. They got the corpses +and buried them. That is, they dug a trench for each one and laid +poles across it, with a funeral pyre on the poles. Then they put the +body on top, and the women of the family cut their hair off and threw +it on. After that they set fire to the outfit, and, when the poles bad +burned through, the whole business fell into the trench of its own +accord. It was the neatest, automatic, self-cocking, double-action +sort of a funeral I ever saw. There wasn't any ceremony—only crying. +</P> + +<P> +The ferry business flourished at prices which were sometimes hard to +collect. But it was a case of pay or go back, and it was a tur'ble long +ways back. We got us timbers and made a scow; built a baile and saloon +and houses out of adobe; and called her Yuma, after the Injins that had +really started her. We got our supplies through the Gulf of +California, where sailing boats worked up the river. People began to +come in for one reason or another, and first thing we knew we had a +store and all sorts of trimmings. In fact we was a real live town. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0111"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ELEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SAILOR WITH ONE HAND +</H3> + +<P> +At this moment the heavy beat of the storm on the roof ceased with +miraculous suddenness, leaving the outside world empty of sound save +for the DRIP, DRIP, DRIP of eaves. Nobody ventured to fill in the +pause that followed the stranger's last words, so in a moment he +continued his narrative. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +We had every sort of people with us off and on, and, as I was lookout +at a popular game, I saw them all. One evening I was on my way home +about two o'clock of a moonlit night, when on the edge of the shadow I +stumbled over a body lying part across the footway. At the same +instant I heard the rip of steel through cloth and felt a sharp stab in +my left leg. For a minute I thought some drunk had used his knife on +me, and I mighty near derringered him as he lay. But somehow I didn't, +and looking closer, I saw the man was unconscious. Then I scouted to +see what had cut me, and found that the fellow had lost a hand. In +place of it he wore a sharp steel hook. This I had tangled up with and +gotten well pricked. +</P> + +<P> +I dragged him out into the light. He was a slim-built young fellow, +with straight black hair, long and lank and oily, a lean face, and big +hooked nose. He had on only a thin shirt, a pair of rough wool pants, +and the rawhide home-made zapatos the Mexicans wore then instead of +boots. Across his forehead ran a long gash, cutting his left eyebrow +square in two. +</P> + +<P> +There was no doubt of his being alive, for he was breathing hard, like +a man does when he gets hit over the head. It didn't sound good. When +a man breathes that way he's mostly all gone. +</P> + +<P> +Well, it was really none of my business, as you might say. Men got +batted over the head often enough in those days. But for some reason I +picked him up and carried him to my 'dobe shack, and laid him out, and +washed his cut with sour wine. That brought him to. Sour wine is fine +to put a wound in shape to heal, but it's no soothing syrup. He sat up +as though he'd been touched with a hot poker, stared around wild-eyed, +and cut loose with that song you were singing. Only it wasn't that +verse. It was another one further along, that went like this: +</P> + +<P> +Their coffin was their ship, and their grave it was the sea,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Blow high, blow low, what care we;</SPAN><BR> +And the quarter that we gave them was to sink them in the sea,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Down on the coast of the High Barbaree.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +It fair made my hair rise to hear him, with the big, still, solemn +desert outside, and the quiet moonlight, and the shadows, and him +sitting up straight and gaunt, his eyes blazing each side his big eagle +nose, and his snaky hair hanging over the raw cut across his head. +However, I made out to get him bandaged up and in shape; and pretty +soon he sort of went to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Well, he was clean out of his head for nigh two weeks. Most of the +time he lay flat on his back staring at the pole roof, his eyes burning +and looking like they saw each one something a different distance off, +the way crazy eyes do. That was when he was best. Then again he'd +sing that Barbaree song until I'd go out and look at the old Colorado +flowing by just to be sure I hadn't died and gone below. Or else he'd +just talk. That was the worst performance of all. It was like +listening to one end of a telephone, though we didn't know what +telephones were in those days. He began when he was a kid, and he gave +his side of conversations, pausing for replies. I could mighty near +furnish the replies sometimes. It was queer lingo—about ships and +ships' officers and gales and calms and fights and pearls and whales +and islands and birds and skies. But it was all little stuff. I used +to listen by the hour, but I never made out anything really important +as to who the man was, or where he'd come from, or what he'd done. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of the second week I came in at noon as per usual to fix him +up with grub. I didn't pay any attention to him, for he was quiet. As +I was bending over the fire he spoke. Usually I didn't bother with his +talk, for it didn't mean anything, but something in his voice made me +turn. He was lying on his side, those black eyes of his blazing at me, +but now both of them saw the same distance. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are my clothes?" he asked, very intense. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't in any shape to want clothes," said I. "Lie still." +</P> + +<P> +I hadn't any more than got the words out of my mouth before he was atop +me. His method was a winner. He had me by the throat with his hand, +and I felt the point of the hook pricking the back of my neck. One +little squeeze—Talk about your deadly weapons! +</P> + +<P> +But he'd been too sick and too long abed. He turned dizzy and keeled +over, and I dumped him back on the bunk. Then I put my six-shooter on. +</P> + +<P> +In a minute or so he came to. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you're a nice, sweet proposition," said I, as soon as I was sure +he could understand me. "Here I pick you up on the street and save +your worthless carcass, and the first chance you get you try to crawl +my hump. Explain." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's my clothes?" he demanded again, very fierce. +</P> + +<P> +"For heaven's sake," I yelled at him, "what's the matter with you and +your old clothes? There ain't enough of them to dust a fiddle with +anyway. What do you think I'd want with them? They're safe enough."' +</P> + +<P> +"Let me have them," he begged. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, look here," said I, "you can't get up to-day. You ain't fit." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," he pleaded, "but let me see them." +</P> + +<P> +Just to satisfy him I passed over his old duds. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been robbed," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said I, "what did you expect would happen to you lying around +Yuma after midnight with a hole in your head?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where's my coat?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You had no coat when I picked you up," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me mighty suspicious, but didn't say anything more—he +wouldn't even answer when I spoke to him. After he'd eaten a fair meal +he fell asleep. When I came back that evening the bunk was empty and +he was gone. +</P> + +<P> +I didn't see him again for two days. Then I caught sight of him quite +a ways off. He nodded at me very sour, and dodged around the corner of +the store. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess he suspicions I stole that old coat of his," thinks I; and +afterwards I found that my surmise had been correct. +</P> + +<P> +However, he didn't stay long in that frame of mind. It was along +towards evening, and I was walking on the banks looking down over the +muddy old Colorado, as I always liked to do. The sun had just set, and +the mountains had turned hard and stiff, as they do after the glow, and +the sky above them was a thousand million miles deep of pale green-gold +light. A pair of Greasers were ahead of me, but I could see only their +outlines, and they didn't seem to interfere any with the scenery. +Suddenly a black figure seemed to rise up out of the ground; the +Mexican man went down as though he'd been jerked with a string, and the +woman screeched. +</P> + +<P> +I ran up, pulling my gun. The Mex was flat on his face, his arms +stretched out. On the middle of his back knelt my one-armed friend. +And that sharp hook was caught neatly under the point of the Mexican's +jaw. You bet he lay still. +</P> + +<P> +I really think I was just in time to save the man's life. According to +my belief another minute would have buried the hook in the Mexican's +neck. Anyway, I thrust the muzzle of my Colt's into the sailor's face. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +The sailor looked up at me without changing his position. He was not +the least bit afraid. +</P> + +<P> +"This man has my coat," he explained. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'd you get the coat?" I asked the Mex. +</P> + +<P> +"I ween heem at monte off Antonio Curvez," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," growled the sailor. +</P> + +<P> +He still held the hook under the man's jaw, but with the other hand he +ran rapidly under and over the Mexican's left shoulder. In the half +light I could see his face change. The gleam died from his eye; the +snarl left his lips. Without further delay he arose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up and give it here!" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican was only too glad to get off so easy. I don't know whether +he'd really won the coat at monte or not. In any case, he flew poco +pronto, leaving me and my friend together. +</P> + +<P> +The man with the hook felt the left shoulder of the coat again, looked +up, met my eye, muttered something intended to be pleasant, and walked +away. +</P> + +<P> +This was in December. +</P> + +<P> +During the next two months he was a good deal about town, mostly doing +odd jobs. I saw him off and on. He always spoke to me as pleasantly +as he knew how, and once made some sort of a bluff about paying me back +for my trouble in bringing him around. However, I didn't pay much +attention to that, being at the time almighty busy holding down my card +games. +</P> + +<P> +The last day of February I was sitting in my shack smoking a pipe after +supper, when my one-armed friend opened the door a foot, slipped in, +and shut it immediately. By the time he looked towards me I knew where +my six-shooter was. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," said I, "but you better stay right there." +</P> + +<P> +I intended to take no more chances with that hook. +</P> + +<P> +He stood there looking straight at me without winking or offering to +move. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to make up to you for your trouble," said he. "I've got a good +thing, and I want to let you in on it." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of a good thing?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Treasure," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"H'm," said I. +</P> + +<P> +I examined him closely. He looked all right enough, neither drunk nor +loco. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," said I—"over there; the other side the table." He did so. +"Now, fire away," said I. +</P> + +<P> +He told me his name was Solomon Anderson, but that he was generally +known as Handy Solomon, on account of his hook; that he had always +followed the sea; that lately he had coasted the west shores of Mexico; +that at Guaymas he had fallen in with Spanish friends, in company with +whom he had visited the mines in the Sierra Madre; that on this +expedition the party had been attacked by Yaquis and wiped out, he +alone surviving; that his blanket-mate before expiring had told him of +gold buried in a cove of Lower California by the man's grandfather; +that the man had given him a chart showing the location of the +treasure; that he had sewn this chart in the shoulder of his coat, +whence his suspicion of me and his being so loco about getting it back. +</P> + +<P> +"And it's a big thing," said Handy Solomon to me, "for they's not only +gold, but altar jewels and diamonds. It will make us rich, and a dozen +like us, and you can kiss the Book on that." +</P> + +<P> +"That may all be true," said I, "but why do you tell me? Why don't you +get your treasure without the need of dividing it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, mate," he answered, "it's just plain gratitude. Didn't you save +my life, and nuss me, and take care of me when I was nigh killed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Anderson, or Handy Solomon, or whatever you please to call +yourself," I rejoined to this, "if you're going to do business with +me—and I do not understand yet just what it is you want of me—you'll +have to talk straight. It's all very well to say gratitude, but that +don't go with me. You've been around here three months, and barring a +half-dozen civil words and twice as many of the other kind, I've failed +to see any indications of your gratitude before. It's a quality with a +hell of a hang-fire to it." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me sideways, spat, and looked at me sideways again. Then +he burst into a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"The devil's a preacher, if you ain't lost your pinfeathers,"' said he. +"Well, it's this then: I got to have a boat to get there; and she must +be stocked. And I got to have help with the treasure, if it's like +this fellow said it was. And the Yaquis and cannibals from Tiburon is +through the country. It's money I got to have, and it's money I +haven't got, and can't get unless I let somebody in as pardner." +</P> + +<P> +"Why me?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" he retorted. "I ain't see anybody I like better." +</P> + +<P> +We talked the matter over at length. I had to force him to each point, +for suspicion was strong in him. I stood out for a larger party. He +strongly opposed this as depreciating the shares, but I had no +intention of going alone into what was then considered a wild and +dangerous country. Finally we compromised. A third of the treasure +was to go to him, a third to me, and the rest was to be divided among +the men whom I should select. This scheme did not appeal to him. +</P> + +<P> +"How do I know you plays fair?" he complained. "They'll be four of you +to one of me; and I don't like it, and you can kiss the Book on that." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't like it, leave it," said I, "and get out, and be damned +to you." +</P> + +<P> +Finally he agreed; but he refused me a look at the chart, saying that +he had left it in a safe place. I believe in reality he wanted to be +surer of me, and for that I can hardly blame him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0112"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWELVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MURDER ON THE BEACH +</H3> + +<P> +At this moment the cook stuck his head in at the open door. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you fellows," he complained, "I got to be up at three o'clock. +Ain't you never going to turn in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up, Doctor!" "Somebody kill him!" "Here, sit down and listen to +this yarn!" yelled a savage chorus. +</P> + +<P> +There ensued a slight scuffle, a few objections. Then silence, and the +stranger took up his story. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I had a chum named Billy Simpson, and I rung him in for friendship. +Then there was a solemn, tall Texas young fellow, strong as a bull, +straight and tough, brought up fighting Injins. He never said much, +but I knew he'd be right there when the gong struck. For fourth man I +picked out a German named Schwartz. He and Simpson had just come back +from the mines together. I took him because he was a friend of +Billy's, and besides was young and strong, and was the only man in town +excepting the sailor, Anderson, who knew anything about running a boat. +I forgot to say that the Texas fellow was named Denton. +</P> + +<P> +Handy Solomon had his boat all picked out. It belonged to some Basques +who had sailed her around from California. I must say when I saw her I +felt inclined to renig, for she wasn't more'n about twenty-five feet +long, was open except for a little sort of cubbyhole up in the front of +her, had one mast, and was pointed at both ends. However, Schwartz +said she was all right. He claimed he knew the kind; that she was the +sort used by French fishermen, and could stand all sorts of trouble. +She didn't look it. +</P> + +<P> +We worked her up to Yuma, partly with oars and partly by sails. Then +we loaded her with grub for a month. Each of us had his own weapons, +of course. In addition we put in picks and shovels, and a small cask +of water. Handy Solomon said that would be enough, as there was water +marked down on his chart. We told the gang that we were going trading. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of the week we started, and were out four days. There +wasn't much room, what with the supplies and the baggage, for the five +of us. We had to curl up 'most anywheres to sleep. And it certainly +seemed to me that we were in lots of danger. The waves were much +bigger than she was, and splashed on us considerable, but Schwartz and +Anderson didn't seem to mind. They laughed at us. Anderson sang that +song of his, and Schwartz told us of the placers he had worked. He and +Simpson had made a pretty good clean-up, just enough to make them want +to get rich. The first day out Simpson showed us a belt with about an +hundred ounces of dust. This he got tired of wearing, so he kept it in +a compass-box, which was empty. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of the four days we turned in at a deep bay and came to +anchor. The country was the usual proposition—very light-brown, +brittle-looking mountains, about two thousand feet high; lots of sage +and cactus, a pebbly beach, and not a sign of anything fresh and green. +</P> + +<P> +But Denton and I were mighty glad to see any sort of land. Besides, +our keg of water was pretty low, and it was getting about time to +discover the spring the chart spoke of. So we piled our camp stuff in +the small boat and rowed ashore. +</P> + +<P> +Anderson led the way confidently enough up a dry arroyo, whose sides +were clay and conglomerate. But, though we followed it to the end, we +could find no indications that it was anything more than a wash for +rain floods. +</P> + +<P> +"That's main queer," muttered Anderson, and returned to the beach. +</P> + +<P> +There he spread out the chart—the first look at it we'd had—and set +to studying it. +</P> + +<P> +It was a careful piece of work done in India ink, pretty old, to judge +by the look of it, and with all sorts of pictures of mountains and +dolphins and ships and anchors around the edge. There was our bay, all +right. Two crosses were marked on the land part—one labelled "oro" +and the other "agua." +</P> + +<P> +"Now there's the high cliff," says Anderson, following it out, "and +there's the round hill with the boulder—and if them bearings don't +point due for that ravine, the devil's a preacher." +</P> + +<P> +We tried it again, with the same result. A second inspection of the +map brought us no light on the question. We talked it over, and looked +at it from all points, but we couldn't dodge the truth: the chart was +wrong. +</P> + +<P> +Then we explored several of the nearest gullies, but without finding +anything but loose stones baked hot in the sun. +</P> + +<P> +By now it was getting towards sundown, so we built us a fire of +mesquite on the beach, made us supper, and boiled a pot of beans. +</P> + +<P> +We talked it over. The water was about gone. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what we've got to find first," said Simpson, "no question of +it. It's God knows how far to the next water, and we don't know how +long it will take us to get there in that little boat. If we run our +water entirely out before we start, we're going to be in trouble. +We'll have a good look to-morrow, and if we don't find her, we'll run +down to Mollyhay[4] and get a few extra casks." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps that map is wrong about the treasure, too," suggested Denton. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought of that," said Handy Solomon, "but then, thinks I to myself, +this old rip probably don't make no long stay here—just dodges in and +out like, between tides, to bury his loot. He would need no water at +the time; but he might when he came back, so he marked the water on his +map. But he wasn't noways particular AND exact, being in a hurry. But +you can kiss the Book to it that he didn't make no such mistakes about +the swag." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you're right," said I. +</P> + +<P> +When we came to turn in, Anderson suggested that he should sleep aboard +the boat. But Billy Simpson, in mind perhaps of the hundred ounces in +the compass-box, insisted that he'd just as soon as not. After a +little objection Handy Solomon gave in, but I thought he seemed sour +about it. We built a good fire, and in about ten seconds were asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Now, usually I sleep like a log, and did this time until about +midnight. Then all at once I came broad awake and sitting up in my +blankets. Nothing had happened—I wasn't even dreaming—but there I +was as alert and clear as though it were broad noon. +</P> + +<P> +By the light of the fire I saw Handy Solomon sitting, and at his side +our five rifles gathered. +</P> + +<P> +I must have made some noise, for he turned quietly toward me, saw I was +awake, and nodded. The moonlight was sparkling on the hard stony +landscape, and a thin dampness came out from the sea. +</P> + +<P> +After a minute Anderson threw on another stick of wood, yawned, and +stood up. +</P> + +<P> +"It's wet," said he; "I've been fixing the guns." +</P> + +<P> +He showed me how he was inserting a little patch of felt between the +hammer and the nipple, a scheme of his own for keeping damp from the +powder. Then he rolled up in his blanket. At the time it all seemed +quite natural—I suppose my mind wasn't fully awake, for all my head +felt so clear. Afterwards I realised what a ridiculous bluff he was +making: for of course the cap already on the nipple was plenty to keep +out the damp. I fully believe he intended to kill us as we lay. Only +my sudden awakening spoiled his plan. +</P> + +<P> +I had absolutely no idea of this at the time, however. Not the +slightest suspicion entered my head. In view of that fact, I have +since believed in guardian angels. For my next move, which at the time +seemed to me absolutely aimless, was to change my blankets from one +side of the fire to the other. And that brought me alongside the five +rifles. +</P> + +<P> +Owing to this fact, I am now convinced, we awoke safe at daylight, +cooked breakfast, and laid the plan for the day. Anderson directed us. +I was to climb over the ridge before us and search in the ravine on the +other side. Schwartz was to explore up the beach to the left, and +Denton to the right. Anderson said he would wait for Billy Simpson, +who had overslept in the darkness of the cubbyhole, and who was now +paddling ashore. The two of them would push inland to the west until a +high hill would give them a chance to look around for greenery. +</P> + +<P> +We started at once, before the sun would be hot. The hill I had to +climb was steep and covered with chollas, so I didn't get along very +fast. When I was about half way to the top I heard a shot from the +beach. I looked back. Anderson was in the small boat, rowing rapidly +out to the vessel. Denton was running up the beach from one direction +and Schwartz from the other. I slid and slipped down the bluff, +getting pretty well stuck up with the cholla spines. +</P> + +<P> +At the beach we found Billy Simpson lying on his ace, shot through the +back. We turned him over, but he was apparently dead. Anderson had +hoisted the sail, had cut loose from the anchor, and was sailing away. +</P> + +<P> +Denton stood up straight and tall, looking. Then he pulled his belt in +a hole, grabbed my arm, and started to run up the long curve of the +beach. Behind us came Schwartz. We ran near a mile, and then fell +among some tules in an inlet at the farther point. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" I gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Our only chance—to get him—" said Denton. "He's got to go around +this point—big wind—perhaps his mast will bust—then he'll come +ashore—" He opened and shut his big brown hands. +</P> + +<P> +So there we two fools lay, like panthers in the tules, taking our only +one-in-a-million chance to lay hands on Anderson. Any sailor could +have told us that the mast wouldn't break, but we had winded Schwartz a +quarter of a mile back. And so we waited, our eyes fixed on the boat's +sail, grudging her every inch, just burning to fix things to suit us a +little better. And naturally she made the point in what I now know was +only a fresh breeze, squared away, and dropped down before the wind +toward Guaymas. +</P> + +<P> +We walked back slowly to our camp, swallowing the copper taste of too +hard a run. Schwartz we picked up from a boulder, just recovering. We +were all of us crazy mad. Schwartz half wept, and blamed and cussed. +Denton glowered away in silence. I ground my feet into the sand in a +help less sort of anger, not only at the man himself, but also at the +whole way things had turned out. I don't believe the least notion of +our predicament had come to any of us. All we knew yet was that we had +been done up, and we were hostile about it. +</P> + +<P> +But at camp we found something to occupy us for the moment. Poor Billy +was not dead, as we had supposed, but very weak and sick, and a hole +square through him. When we returned he was conscious, but that was +about all. His eyes were shut, and he was moaning. I tore open his +shirt to stanch the blood. He felt my hand and opened his eyes. They +were glazed, and I don't think he saw me. +</P> + +<P> +"Water, water!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +At that we others saw all at once where we stood. I remember I rose to +my feet and found myself staring straight into Tom Denton's eyes. We +looked at each other that way for I guess it was a full minute. Then +Tom shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Water, water!" begged poor Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Tom leaned over him. +</P> + +<P> +"My God, Billy, there ain't any water!" said he. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[4] Mulege—I retain the Old Timer's pronunciation. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0113"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BURIED TREASURE +</H3> + +<P> +The Old Timer's voice broke a little. We had leisure to notice that +even the drip from the eaves had ceased. A faint, diffused light +vouchsafed us dim outlines of sprawling figures and tumbled bedding. +Far in the distance outside a wolf yelped. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +We could do nothing for him except shelter him from the sun, and wet +his forehead with sea-water; nor could we think clearly for ourselves +as long as the spark of life lingered in him. His chest rose and fell +regularly, but with long pauses between. When the sun was overhead he +suddenly opened his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Fellows," said he, "it's beautiful over there; the grass is so green, +and the water so cool; I am tired of marching, and I reckon I'll cross +over and camp." +</P> + +<P> +Then he died. We scooped out a shallow hole above tide-mark, and laid +him in it, and piled over him stones from the wash. +</P> + +<P> +Then we went back to the beach, very solemn, to talk it over. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, boys," said I, "there seems to me just one thing to do, and that +is to pike out for water as fast as we can." +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" asked Denton. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," I argued, "I don't believe there's any water about this bay. +Maybe there was when that chart was made. It was a long time ago. And +any way, the old pirate was a sailor, and no plainsman, and maybe he +mistook rainwater for a spring. We've looked around this end of the +bay. The chances are we'd use up two or three days exploring around +the other, and then wouldn't be as well off as we are right now." +</P> + +<P> +"Which way?" asked Denton again, mighty brief. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said I, "there's one thing I've always noticed in case of folks +held up by the desert: they generally go wandering about here and there +looking for water until they die not far from where they got lost. And +usually they've covered a heap of actual distance." +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," agreed Denton. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, I've always figured that it would be a good deal better to start +right out for some particular place, even if it's ten thousand miles +away. A man is just as likely to strike water going in a straight line +as he is going in a circle; and then, besides, he's getting somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +"Correct," said Denton, +</P> + +<P> +"So," I finished, "I reckon we'd better follow the coast south and try +to get to Mollyhay." +</P> + +<P> +"How far is that?" asked Schwartz. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't rightly know. But somewheres between three and five hundred +miles, at a guess." +</P> + +<P> +At that he fell to glowering and grooming with himself, brooding over +what a hard time it was going to be. That is the way with a German. +First off he's plumb scared at the prospect of suffering anything, and +would rather die right off than take long chances. After he gets into +the swing of it, he behaves as well as any man. +</P> + +<P> +We took stock of what we had to depend on. The total assets proved to +be just three pairs of legs. A pot of coffee had been on the fire, but +that villain had kicked it over when he left. The kettle of beans was +there, but somehow we got the notion they might have been poisoned, so +we left them. I don't know now why we were so foolish—if poison was +his game, he'd have tried it before—but at that time it seemed +reasonable enough. Perhaps the horror of the morning's work, and the +sight of the brittle-brown mountains, and the ghastly yellow glare of +the sun, and the blue waves racing by outside, and the big strong wind +that blew through us so hard that it seemed to blow empty our souls, +had turned our judgment. Anyway, we left a full meal there in the +beanpot. +</P> + +<P> +So without any further delay we set off up the ridge I had started to +cross that morning. Schwartz lagged, sulky as a muley cow, but we +managed to keep him with us. At the top of the ridge we took our +bearings for the next deep bay. Already we had made up our minds to +stick to the sea-coast, both on account of the lower country over which +to travel and the off chance of falling in with a fishing vessel. +Schwartz muttered something about its being too far even to the next +bay, and wanted to sit down on a rock. Denton didn't say anything, but +he jerked Schwartz up by the collar so fiercely that the German gave it +over and came along. +</P> + +<P> +We dropped down into the gully, stumbled over the boulder wash, and +began to toil in the ankle-deep sand of a little sage-brush flat this +side of the next ascent. Schwartz followed steadily enough now, but +had fallen forty or fifty feet behind. This was a nuisance, as we bad +to keep turning to see if he still kept up. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he seemed to disappear. +</P> + +<P> +Denton and I hurried back to find him on his hands and knees behind a +sagebrush, clawing away at the sand like mad. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't be water on this flat," said Denton; "he must have gone crazy." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, Schwartz?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +For answer he moved a little to one side, showing beneath his knee one +corner of a wooden box sticking above the sand. +</P> + +<P> +At this we dropped beside him, and in five minutes had uncovered the +whole of the chest. It was not very large, and was locked. A rock +from the wash fixed that, however. We threw back the lid. +</P> + +<P> +It was full to the brim of gold coins, thrown in loose, nigh two +bushels of them. +</P> + +<P> +"The treasure!" I cried. +</P> + +<P> +There it was, sure enough, or some of it. We looked the rest through, +but found nothing but the gold coins. The altar ornaments and jewels +were lacking. +</P> + +<P> +"Probably buried in another box or so," said Denton. +</P> + +<P> +Schwartz wanted to dig around a little. +</P> + +<P> +"No good," said I. "We've got our work cut out for us as it is." +</P> + +<P> +Denton backed me up. We were both old hands at the business, had each +in our time suffered the "cotton-mouth" thirst, and the memory of it +outweighed any desire for treasure. +</P> + +<P> +But Schwartz was money-mad. Left to himself he would have staid on +that sand flat to perish, as certainly as had poor Billy. We had +fairly to force him away, and then succeeded only because we let him +fill all his pockets to bulging with the coins. As we moved up the +next rise, he kept looking back and uttering little moans against the +crime of leaving it. +</P> + +<P> +Luckily for us it was winter. We shouldn't have lasted six hours at +this time of year. As it was, the sun was hot against the shale and +the little stones of those cussed hills. We plodded along until late +afternoon, toiling up one hill and down another, only to repeat +immediately. Towards sundown we made the second bay, where we plunged +into the sea, clothes and all, and were greatly refreshed. I suppose a +man absorbs a good deal that way. Anyhow, it always seemed to help. +</P> + +<P> +We were now pretty hungry, and, as we walked along the shore, we began +to look for turtles or shellfish, or anything else that might come +handy. There was nothing. Schwartz wanted to stop for a night's rest, +but Denton and I knew better than that. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Schwartz," said Denton, "you don't realise you're entered +against time in this race—and that you're a damn fool to carry all +that weight in your clothes." +</P> + +<P> +So we dragged along all night. +</P> + +<P> +It was weird enough, I can tell you. The moon shone cold and white +over that dead, dry country. Hot whiffs rose from the baked stones and +hillsides. Shadows lay under the stones like animals crouching. When +we came to the edge of a silvery hill we dropped off into pitchy +blackness. There we stumbled over boulders for a minute or so, and +began to climb the steep shale on the other side. This was fearful +work. The top seemed always miles away. By morning we didn't seem to +have made much of anywhere. The same old hollow-looking mountains with +the sharp edges stuck up in about the same old places. +</P> + +<P> +We had got over being very hungry, and, though we were pretty dry, we +didn't really suffer yet from thirst. About this time Denton ran +across some fishhook cactus, which we cut up and chewed. They have a +sticky wet sort of inside, which doesn't quench your thirst any, but +helps to keep you from drying up and blowing away. +</P> + +<P> +All that day we plugged along as per usual. It was main hard work, and +we got to that state where things are disagreeable, but mechanical. +Strange to say, Schwartz kept in the lead. It seemed to me at the time +that he was using more energy than the occasion called for—just as man +runs faster before he comes to the giving-out point. However, the +hours went by, and he didn't seem to get any more tired than the rest +of us. +</P> + +<P> +We kept a sharp lookout for anything to eat, but there was nothing but +lizards and horned toads. Later we'd have been glad of them, but by +that time we'd got out of their district. Night came. Just at sundown +we took another wallow in the surf, and chewed some more fishhook +cactus. When the moon came up we went on. +</P> + +<P> +I'm not going to tell you how dead beat we got. We were pretty tough +and strong, for all of us had been used to hard living, but after the +third day without anything to eat and no water to drink, it came to be +pretty hard going. It got to the point where we had to have some +REASON for getting out besides just keeping alive. A man would +sometimes rather die than keep alive, anyway, if it came only to that. +But I know I made up my mind I was going to get out so I could smash up +that Anderson, and I reckon Denton had the same idea. Schwartz didn't +say anything, but he pumped on ahead of us, his back bent over, and his +clothes sagging and bulging with the gold he carried. +</P> + +<P> +We used to travel all night, because it was cool, and rest an hour or +two at noon. That is all the rest we did get. I don't know how fast +we went; I'd got beyond that. We must have crawled along mighty slow, +though, after our first strength gave out. The way I used to do was to +collect myself with an effort, look around for my bearings, pick out a +landmark a little distance off, and forget everything but it. Then I'd +plod along, knowing nothing but the sand and shale and slope under my +feet, until I'd reached that landmark. Then I'd clear my mind and pick +out another. +</P> + +<P> +But I couldn't shut out the figure of Schwartz that way. He used to +walk along just ahead of my shoulder. His face was all twisted up, but +I remember thinking at the time it looked more as if he was worried in +his mind than like bodily suffering. The weight of the gold in his +clothes bent his shoulders over. +</P> + +<P> +As we went on the country gradually got to be more mountainous, and, as +we were steadily growing weaker, it did seem things were piling up on +us. The eighth day we ran out of the fishhook cactus, and, being on a +high promontory, were out of touch with the sea. For the first time my +tongue began to swell a little. The cactus had kept me from that +before. Denton must have been in the same fix, for he looked at me and +raised one eyebrow kind of humorous. +</P> + +<P> +Schwartz was having a good deal of difficulty to navigate. I will say +for him that he had done well, but now I could see that his strength +was going on him in spite of himself. He knew it, all right, for when +we rested that day he took all the gold coins and spread them in a row, +and counted them, and put them back in his pocket, and then all of a +sudden snatched out two handfuls and threw them as far as he could. +</P> + +<P> +"Too heavy," he muttered, but that was all he could bring himself to +throw away. +</P> + +<P> +All that night we wandered high in the air. I guess we tried to keep a +general direction, but I don't know. Anyway, along late, but before +moonrise—she was now on the wane—I came to, and found myself looking +over the edge of a twenty-foot drop. Right below me I made out a faint +glimmer of white earth in the starlight. Somehow it reminded me of a +little trail I used to know under a big rock back in Texas. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a trail," I thought, more than half loco; "I'll follow it!" +</P> + +<P> +At least that's what half of me thought. The other half was sensible, +and knew better, but it seemed to be kind of standing to one side, a +little scornful, watching the performance. So I slid and slipped down +to the strip of white earth, and, sure enough, it was a trail. At that +the loco half of me gave the sensible part the laugh. I followed the +path twenty feet and came to a dark hollow under the rock, and in it a +round pool of water about a foot across. They say a man kills himself +drinking too much, after starving for water. That may be, but it +didn't kill me, and I sucked up all I could hold. Perhaps the fishhook +cactus had helped. Well, sir, it was surprising how that drink brought +me around. A minute before I'd been on the edge of going plumb loco, +and here I was as clear-headed as a lawyer. +</P> + +<P> +I hunted up Denton and Schwartz. They drank, themselves full, too. +Then we rested. It was mighty hard to leave that spring— +</P> + +<P> +Oh, we had to do it. We'd have starved sure, there. The trail was a +game trail, but that did us no good, for we had no weapons. +</P> + +<P> +How we did wish for the coffeepot, so we could take some away. We +filled our hats, and carried them about three hours, before the water +began to soak through. Then we had to drink it in order to save it. +</P> + +<P> +The country fairly stood up on end. We had to climb separate little +hills so as to avoid rolling rocks down on each other. It took it out +of us. About this time we began to see mountain sheep. They would +come right up to the edges of the small cliffs to look at us. We threw +stones at them, hoping to hit one in the forehead, but of course +without any results. +</P> + +<P> +The good effects of the water lasted us about a day. Then we began to +see things again. Off and on I could see water plain as could be in +every hollow, and game of all kinds standing around and looking at me. +I knew these were all fakes. By making an effort I could swing things +around to where they belonged. I used to do that every once in a +while, just to be sure we weren't doubling back, and to look out for +real water. But most of the time it didn't seem to be worth while. I +just let all these visions riot around and have a good time inside me +or outside me, whichever it was. I knew I could get rid of them any +minute. Most of the time, if I was in any doubt, it was easier to +throw a stone to see if the animals were real or not. The real ones +ran away. +</P> + +<P> +We began to see bands of wild horses in the uplands. One day both +Denton and I plainly saw one with saddle marks on him. If only one of +us had seen him, it wouldn't have counted much, but we both made him +out. This encouraged us wonderfully, though I don't see why it should +have. We had topped the high country, too, and had started down the +other side of the mountains that ran out on the promontory. Denton and +I were still navigating without any thought of giving up, but Schwartz +was getting in bad shape. I'd hate to pack twenty pounds over that +country even with rest, food, and water. He was toting it on nothing. +We told him so, and he came to see it, but he never could persuade +himself to get rid of the gold all at once. Instead he threw away the +pieces one by one. Each sacrifice seemed to nerve him up for another +heat. I can shut my eyes and see it now—the wide, glaring, yellow +country, the pasteboard mountains, we three dragging along, and the +fierce sunshine flashing from the doubloons as one by one they went +spinning through the air. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0114"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOURTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CHEWED SUGAR CANE +</H3> + +<P> +"I'd like to have trailed you fellows," sighed a voice from the corner. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you!" said Colorado Rogers grimly. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was five days to the next water. But they were worse than the eight +days before. We were lucky, however, for at the spring we discovered +in a deep wash near the coast, was the dried-up skull of a horse. It +had been there a long time, but a few shreds of dried flesh still clung +to it. It was the only thing that could be described as food that had +passed our lips since breakfast thirteen days before. In that time we +had crossed the mountain chain, and had come again to the sea. The +Lord was good to us. He sent us the water, and the horse's skull, and +the smooth hard beach, without breaks or the necessity of climbing +hills. And we needed it, oh, I promise you, we needed it! +</P> + +<P> +I doubt if any of us could have kept the direction except by such an +obvious and continuous landmark as the sea to our left. It hardly +seemed worth while to focus my mind, but I did it occasionally just by +way of testing myself. Schwartz still threw away his gold coins, and +once, in one of my rare intervals of looking about me, I saw Denton +picking them up. This surprised me mildly, but I was too tired to be +very curious. Only now, when I saw Schwartz's arm sweep out in what +had become a mechanical movement, I always took pains to look, and +always I saw Denton search for the coin. Sometimes he found it, and +sometimes he did not. +</P> + +<P> +The figures of my companions and the yellow-brown tide sand under my +feet, and a consciousness of the blue and white sea to my left, are all +I remember, except when we had to pull ourselves together for the +purpose of cutting fishhook cactus. I kept going, and I knew I had a +good reason for doing so, but it seemed too much of an effort to recall +what that reason was. +</P> + +<P> +Schwartz threw away a gold piece as another man would take a stimulant. +Gradually, without really thinking about it, I came to see this, and +then went on to sabe why Denton picked up the coins; and a great +admiration for Denton's cleverness seeped through me like water through +the sand. He was saving the coins to keep Schwartz going. When the +last coin went, Schwartz would give out. It all sounds queer now, but +it seemed all right then—and it WAS all right, too. +</P> + +<P> +So we walked on the beach, losing entire track of time. And after a +long interval I came to myself to see Schwartz lying on the sand, and +Denton standing over him. Of course we'd all been falling down a lot, +but always before we'd got up again. +</P> + +<P> +"He's give out," croaked Denton. +</P> + +<P> +His voice sounded as if it was miles away, which surprised me, but, +when I answered, mine sounded miles away, too, which surprised me still +more. +</P> + +<P> +Denton pulled out a handful of gold coins. +</P> + +<P> +"This will buy him some more walk," said he gravely, "but not much." +</P> + +<P> +I nodded. It seemed all right, this new, strange purchasing power of +gold—it WAS all right, by God, and as real as buying bricks— +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go on," said Denton, "and send back help. You come after." +</P> + +<P> +"To Mollyhay!" said I. +</P> + +<P> +This far I reckon we'd hung onto ourselves because it was serious. Now +I began to laugh. So did Denton. We laughed and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"A damn long way<BR> +To Mollyhay."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +said I. Then we laughed some more, until the tears ran down our cheeks, +and we had to hold our poor weak sides. Pretty soon we fetched up with +a gasp. +</P> + +<P> +"A damn long way<BR> +To Mollyhay,"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +whispered Denton, and then off we went into more shrieks. And when we +would sober down a little, one or the other of us would say it again: +</P> + +<P> +"A damn long way<BR> +To Mollyhay,"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +and then we'd laugh some more. It must have been a sweet sight! +</P> + +<P> +At last I realised that we ought to pull ourselves together, so I +snubbed up short, and Denton did the same, and we set to laying plans. +But every minute or so one of us would catch on some word, and then +we'd trail off into rhymes and laughter and repetition. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep him going as long as you can," said Denton. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And be sure to stick to the beach." +</P> + +<P> +That far it was all right and clear-headed. But the word "beach" let +us out. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a peach<BR> +Upon the beach,"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +sings I, and there we were both off again until one or the other +managed to grope his way back to common sense again. And sometimes we +crow-hopped solemnly around and around the prostrate Schwartz like a +pair of Injins. +</P> + +<P> +But somehow we got our plan laid at last, slipped the coins into +Schwartz's pocket, and said good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +"Old socks, good-bye,<BR> +You bet I'll try,"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +yelled Denton, and laughing fit to kill, danced off up the beach, and +out into a sort of grey mist that shut off everything beyond a certain +distance from me now. +</P> + +<P> +So I kicked Schwartz, he felt in his pocket, threw a gold piece away, +and "bought a little more walk." +</P> + +<P> +My entire vision was fifty feet or so across. Beyond that was grey +mist. Inside my circle I could see the sand quite plainly and Denton's +footprints. If I moved a little to the left, the wash of the waters +would lap under the edge of that grey curtain. +</P> + +<P> +If I moved to the right, I came to cliffs. The nearer I drew to them, +the farther up I could see, but I could never see to the top. It used +to amuse me to move this area of consciousness about to see what I +could find. Actual physical suffering was beginning to dull, and my +head seemed to be getting clearer. +</P> + +<P> +One day, without any apparent reason, I moved at right angles across +the beach. Directly before me lay a piece of sugar cane, and one end +of it had been chewed. +</P> + +<P> +Do you know what that meant? Animals don't cut sugar cane and bring it +to the beach and chew one end. A new strength ran through me, and +actually the grey mist thinned and lifted for a moment, until I could +make out dimly the line of cliffs and the tumbling sea. +</P> + +<P> +I was not a bit hungry, but I chewed on the sugar cane, and made +Schwartz do the same. When we went on I kept close to the cliff, even +though the walking was somewhat heavier. +</P> + +<P> +I remember after that its getting dark and then light again, so the +night must have passed, but whether we rested or walked I do not know. +Probably we did not get very far, though certainly we staggered ahead +after sun-up, for I remember my shadow. +</P> + +<P> +About midday, I suppose, I made out a dim trail leading up a break in +the cliffs. Plenty of such trails we had seen before. They were +generally made by peccaries in search of cast-up fish—I hope they had +better luck than we. +</P> + +<P> +But in the middle of this, as though for a sign, lay another piece of +chewed sugar cane. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0115"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIFTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CALABASH STEW +</H3> + +<P> +I had agreed with Denton to stick to the beach, but Schwartz could not +last much longer, and I had not the slightest idea how far it might +prove to be to Mollyhay. So I turned up the trail. +</P> + +<P> +We climbed a mountain ten thousand feet high. I mean that; and I know, +for I've climbed them that high, and I know just how it feels, and how +many times you have to rest, and how long it takes, and how much it +knocks out of you. Those are the things that count in measuring +height, and so I tell you we climbed that far. Actually I suppose the +hill was a couple of hundred feet, if not less. But on account of the +grey mist I mentioned, I could not see the top, and the illusion was +complete. +</P> + +<P> +We reached the summit late in the afternoon, for the sun was square in +our eyes. But instead of blinding me, it seemed to clear my sight, so +that I saw below me a little mud hut with smoke rising behind it, and a +small patch of cultivated ground. +</P> + +<P> +I'll pass over how I felt about it: they haven't made the words— +</P> + +<P> +Well, we stumbled down the trail and into the hut. At first I thought +it was empty, but after a minute I saw a very old man crouched in a +corner. As I looked at him he raised his bleared eyes to me, his head +swinging slowly from side to side as though with a kind of palsy. He +could not see me, that was evident, nor hear me, but some instinct not +yet decayed turned him toward a new presence in the room. In my wild +desire for water I found room to think that here was a man even worse +off than myself. +</P> + +<P> +A vessel of water was in the corner. I drank it. It was more than I +could hold, but I drank even after I was filled, and the waste ran from +the corners of my mouth. I had forgotten Schwartz. The excess made me +a little sick, but I held down what I had swallowed, and I really +believe it soaked into my system as it does into the desert earth after +a drought. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment or so I took the vessel and filled it and gave it to +Schwartz. Then it seemed to me that my responsibility had ended. A +sudden great dreamy lassitude came over me. I knew I needed food, but +I had no wish for it, and no ambition to search it out. The man in the +corner mumbled at me with his toothless gums. I remember wondering if +we were all to starve there peacefully together—Schwartz and his +remaining gold coins, the man far gone in years, and myself. I did not +greatly care. +</P> + +<P> +After a while the light was blotted out. There followed a slight +pause. Then I knew that someone had flown to my side, and was kneeling +beside me and saying liquid, pitying things in Mexican. I swallowed +something hot and strong. In a moment I came back from wherever I was +drifting, to look up at a Mexican girl about twenty years old. +</P> + +<P> +She was no great matter in looks, but she seemed like an angel to me +then. And she had sense. No questions, no nothing. Just business. +The only thing she asked of me was if I understood Spanish. +</P> + +<P> +Then she told me that her brother would be back soon, that they were +very poor, that she was sorry she had no meat to offer me, that they +were VERY poor, that all they had was calabash—a sort of squash. All +this time she was bustling things together. Next thing I know I had a +big bowl of calabash stew between my knees. +</P> + +<P> +Now, strangely enough, I had no great interest in that calabash stew. +I tasted it, sat and thought a while, and tasted it again. By and by I +had emptied the bowl. It was getting dark. I was very sleepy. A man +came in, but I was too drowsy to pay any attention to him. I heard the +sound of voices. Then I was picked up bodily and carried to an +out-building and laid on a pile of skins. I felt the weight of a +blanket thrown over me— +</P> + +<P> +I awoke in the night. Mind you, I had practically had no rest at all +for a matter of more than two weeks, yet I woke in a few hours. And, +remember, even in eating the calabash stew I had felt no hunger in +spite of my long fast. But now I found myself ravenous. You boys do +not know what hunger is. It HURTS. And all the rest of that night I +lay awake chewing on the rawhide of a pack-saddle that hung near me. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning the young Mexican and his sister came to us early, +bringing more calabash stew. I fell on it like a wild animal, and just +wallowed in it, so eager was I to eat. They stood and watched me—and +I suppose Schwartz, too, though I had now lost interest in anyone but +myself—glancing at each other in pity from time to time. +</P> + +<P> +When I had finished the man told me that they had decided to kill a +beef so we could have meat. They were very poor, but God had brought +us to them— +</P> + +<P> +I appreciated this afterward. At the time I merely caught at the word +"meat." It seemed to me I could have eaten the animal entire, hide, +hoofs, and tallow. As a matter of fact, it was mighty lucky they +didn't have any meat. If they had, we'd probably have killed ourselves +with it. I suppose the calabash was about the best thing for us under +the circumstances. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican went out to hunt up his horse. I called the girl back. +</P> + +<P> +"How far is it to Mollyhay?" I asked her. +</P> + +<P> +"A league," said she. +</P> + +<P> +So we had been near our journey's end after all, and Denton was +probably all right. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican went away horseback. The girl fed us calabash. We waited. +</P> + +<P> +About one o'clock a group of horsemen rode over the hill. When they +came near enough I recognised Denton at their head. That man was of +tempered steel— +</P> + +<P> +They had followed back along the beach, caught our trail where we had +turned off, and so discovered us. Denton had fortunately found kind +and intelligent people. +</P> + +<P> +We said good-bye to the Mexican girl. I made Schwartz give her one of +his gold pieces. +</P> + +<P> +But Denton could not wait for us to say "hullo" even, he was so anxious +to get back to town, so we mounted the horses he had brought us, and +rode off, very wobbly. +</P> + +<P> +We lived three weeks in Mollyhay. It took us that long to get fed up. +The lady I stayed with made a dish of kid meat and stuffed olives— +</P> + +<P> +Why, an hour after filling myself up to the muzzle I'd be hungry again, +and scouting round to houses looking for more to eat! +</P> + +<P> +We talked things over a good deal, after we had gained a little +strength. I wanted to take a little flyer at Guaymas to see if I could +run across this Handy Solomon person, but Denton pointed out that +Anderson would be expecting just that, and would take mighty good care +to be scarce. His idea was that we'd do better to get hold of a boat +and some water casks, and lug off the treasure we had stumbled over. +Denton told us that the idea of going back and scooping all that dinero +up with a shovel had kept him going, just as the idea of getting even +with Anderson had kept me going. Schwartz said that after he'd carried +that heavy gold over the first day, he made up his mind he'd get the +spending of it or bust. That's why he hated so to throw it away. +</P> + +<P> +There were lots of fishing boats in the harbour, and we hired one, and +a man to run it for next to nothing a week. We laid a course north, +and in six days anchored in our bay. +</P> + +<P> +I tell you it looked queer. There were the charred sticks of the fire, +and the coffeepot lying on its side. We took off our hats at poor +Billy's grave a minute, and then climbed over the cholla-covered hill +carrying our picks and shovels, and the canvas sacks to take the +treasure away in. +</P> + +<P> +There was no trouble in reaching the sandy flat. But when we got there +we found it torn up from one end to the other. A few scattered timbers +and three empty chests with the covers pried off alone remained. Handy +Solomon had been there before us. +</P> + +<P> +We went back to our boat sick at heart. Nobody said a word. We went +aboard and made our Greaser boatman head for Yuma. It took us a week +to get there. We were all of us glum, but Denton was the worst of the +lot. Even after we'd got back to town and fallen into our old ways of +life, he couldn't seem to get over it. He seemed plumb possessed of +gloom, and moped around like a chicken with the pip. This surprised +me, for I didn't think the loss of money would hit him so hard. It +didn't hit any of us very hard in those days. +</P> + +<P> +One evening I took him aside and fed him a drink, and expostulated with +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, HELL, Rogers," he burst out, "I don't care about the loot. But, +suffering cats, think how that fellow sized us up for a lot of +pattern-made fools; and how right he was about, it. Why all he did was +to sail out of sight around the next corner. He knew we'd start across +country; and we did. All we had to do was to lay low, and save our +legs. He was BOUND to come back. And we might have nailed him when he +landed." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"That's about all there was to it," concluded Colorado Rogers, after a +pause, "—except that I've been looking for him ever since, and when I +heard you singing that song I naturally thought I'd landed." +</P> + +<P> +"And you never saw him again?" asked Windy Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," chuckled Rogers, "I did about ten year later. It was in +Tucson. I was in the back of a store, when the door in front opened +and this man came in. He stopped at the little cigar-case by the door. +In about one jump I was on his neck. I jerked him over backwards +before he knew what had struck him, threw him on his face, got my hands +in his back-hair, and began to jump his features against the floor. +Then all at once I noted that this man had two arms; so of course he +was the wrong fellow. "Oh, excuse me," said I, and ran out the back +door." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0116"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIXTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HONK-HONK BREED +</H3> + +<P> +It was Sunday at the ranch. For a wonder the weather had been +favourable; the windmills were all working, the bogs had dried up, the +beef had lasted over, the remuda had not strayed—in short, there was +nothing to do. Sang had given us a baked bread-pudding with raisins in +it. We filled it—in a wash basin full of it—on top of a few +incidental pounds of chile con, baked beans, soda biscuits, "air +tights," and other delicacies. Then we adjourned with our pipes to the +shady side of the blacksmith's shop where we could watch the ravens on +top the adobe wall of the corral. Somebody told a story about ravens. +This led to road-runners. This suggested rattlesnakes. They started +Windy Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Speakin' of snakes," said Windy, "I mind when they catched the +great-granddaddy of all the bullsnakes up at Lead in the Black Hills. +I was only a kid then. This wasn't no such tur'ble long a snake, but +he was more'n a foot thick. Looked just like a sahuaro stalk. Man +name of Terwilliger Smith catched it. He named this yere bullsnake +Clarence, and got it so plumb gentle it followed him everywhere. One +day old P. T. Barnum come along and wanted to buy this Clarence +snake—offered Terwilliger a thousand cold—but Smith wouldn't part +with the snake nohow. So finally they fixed up a deal so Smith could +go along with the show. They shoved Clarence in a box in the baggage +car, but after a while Mr. Snake gets so lonesome he gnaws out and +starts to crawl back to find his master. Just as he is half-way +between the baggage car and the smoker, the couplin' give way—right on +that heavy grade between Custer and Rocky Point. Well, sir, Clarence +wound his head 'round one brake wheel and his tail around the other, +and held that train together to the bottom of the grade. But it +stretched him twenty-eight feet and they had to advertise him as a +boa-constrictor." +</P> + +<P> +Windy Bill's story of the faithful bullsnake aroused to reminiscence +the grizzled stranger, who thereupon held forth as follows: +</P> + +<P> +Wall, I've see things and I've heerd things, some of them ornery, and +some you'd love to believe, they was that gorgeous and improbable. +Nat'ral history was always my hobby and sportin' events my special +pleasure and this yarn of Windy's reminds me of the only chanst I ever +had to ring in business and pleasure and hobby all in one grand +merry-go-round of joy. It come about like this: +</P> + +<P> +One day, a few year back, I was sittin' on the beach at Santa Barbara +watchin' the sky stay up, and wonderin' what to do with my year's +wages, when a little squinch-eye round-face with big bow spectacles +came and plumped down beside me. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever stop to think," says he, shovin' back his hat, "that if +the horsepower delivered by them waves on this beach in one single hour +could be concentrated behind washin' machines, it would be enough to +wash all the shirts for a city of four hundred and fifty-one thousand +one hundred and thirty-six people?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't say I ever did," says I, squintin' at him sideways. +</P> + +<P> +"Fact," says he, "and did it ever occur to you that if all the food a +man eats in the course of a natural life could be gathered together at +one time, it would fill a wagon-train twelve miles long?" +</P> + +<P> +"You make me hungry," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"And ain't it interestin' to reflect," he goes on, "that if all the +finger-nail parin's of the human race for one year was to be collected +and subjected to hydraulic pressure it would equal in size the pyramid +of Cheops?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look yere," says I, sittin' up, "did YOU ever pause to excogitate that +if all the hot air you is dispensin' was to be collected together it +would fill a balloon big enough to waft you and me over that Bullyvard +of Palms to yonder gin mill on the corner?" +</P> + +<P> +He didn't say nothin' to that—just yanked me to my feet, faced me +towards the gin mill above mentioned, and exerted considerable pressure +on my arm in urgin' of me forward. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't so much of a dreamer, after all," thinks I. "In important +matters you are plumb decisive." +</P> + +<P> +We sat down at little tables, and my friend ordered a beer and a +chicken sandwich. +</P> + +<P> +"Chickens," says he, gazin' at the sandwich, "is a dollar apiece in +this country, and plumb scarce. Did you ever pause to ponder over the +returns chickens would give on a small investment? Say you start with +ten hens. Each hatches out thirteen aigs, of which allow a loss of say +six for childish accidents. At the end of the year you has eighty +chickens. At the end of two years that flock has increased to six +hundred and twenty. At the end of the third year—" +</P> + +<P> +e had the medicine tongue! Ten days later him and me was<BR> +occupyin' of an old ranch fifty mile from anywhere. When they run +stage-coaches this joint used to be a roadhouse. The outlook was on +about a thousand little brown foothills. A road two miles four rods +two foot eleven inches in sight run by in front of us. It come over +one foothill and disappeared over another. I know just how long it +was, for later in the game I measured it. +</P> + +<P> +Out back was about a hundred little wire chicken corrals filled with +chickens. We had two kinds. That was the doin's of Tuscarora. My +pardner called himself Tuscarora Maxillary. I asked him once if that +was his real name. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the realest little old name you ever heerd tell of," says he. "I +know, for I made it myself—liked the sound of her. Parents ain't got +no rights to name their children. Parents don't have to be called them +names." +</P> + +<P> +Well, these chickens, as I said, was of two kinds. The first was these +low-set, heavyweight propositions with feathers on their laigs, and not +much laigs at that, called Cochin Chinys. The other was a tall +ridiculous outfit made up entire of bulgin' breast and gangle laigs. +They stood about two foot and a half tall, and when they went to peck +the ground their tail feathers stuck straight up to the sky. Tusky +called 'em Japanese Games. +</P> + +<P> +"Which the chief advantage of them chickens is," says he, "that in +weight about ninety per cent of 'em is breast meat. Now my idee is, +that if we can cross 'em with these Cochin Chiny fowls we'll have a +low-hung, heavyweight chicken runnin' strong on breast meat. These Jap +Games is too small, but if we can bring 'em up in size and shorten +their laigs, we'll shore have a winner." +</P> + +<P> +That looked good to me, so we started in on that idee. The theery was +bully, but she didn't work out. The first broods we hatched growed up +with big husky Cochin Chiny bodies and little short necks, perched up +on laigs three foot long. Them chickens couldn't reach ground nohow. +We had to build a table for 'em to eat off, and when they went out +rustlin' for themselves they had to confine themselves to sidehills or +flyin' insects. Their breasts was all right, though—"And think of +them drumsticks for the boardinghouse trade!" says Tusky. +</P> + +<P> +So far things wasn't so bad. We had a good grubstake. Tusky and me +used to feed them chickens twict a day, and then used to set around +watchin' the playful critters chase grasshoppers up an' down the wire +corrals, while Tusky figgered out what'd happen if somebody was dumfool +enough to gather up somethin' and fix it in baskets or wagons or such. +That was where we showed our ignorance of chickens. +</P> + +<P> +One day in the spring I hitched up, rustled a dozen of the youngsters +into coops, and druv over to the railroad to make our first sale. I +couldn't fold them chickens up into them coops at first, but then I +stuck the coops up on aidge and they worked all right, though I will +admit they was a comical sight. At the railroad one of them towerist +trains had just slowed down to a halt as I come up, and the towerist +was paradin' up and down allowin' they was particular enjoyin' of the +warm Californy sunshine. One old terrapin, with grey chin whiskers, +projected over, with his wife, and took a peek through the slats of my +coop. He straightened up like someone had touched him off with a +red-hot poker. +</P> + +<P> +"Stranger," said he, in a scared kind of whisper, "what's them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Them's chickens," says I. +</P> + +<P> +He took another long look. +</P> + +<P> +"Marthy," says he to the old woman, "this will be about all! We come +out from Ioway to see the Wonders of Californy, but I can't go nothin' +stronger than this. If these is chickens, I don't want to see no Big +Trees." +</P> + +<P> +Well, I sold them chickens all right for a dollar and two bits, which +was better than I expected, and got an order for more. About ten days +later I got a letter from the commission house. +</P> + +<P> +"We are returnin' a sample of your Arts and Crafts chickens with the +lovin' marks of the teeth still onto him," says they. "Don't send any +more till they stops pursuin' of the nimble grasshopper. Dentist bill +will foller." +</P> + +<P> +With the letter came the remains of one of the chickens. Tusky and I, +very indignant, cooked her for supper. She was tough, all right. We +thought she might do better biled, so we put her in the pot over night. +Nary bit. Well, then we got interested. Tusky kep' the fire goin' and +I rustled greasewood. We cooked her three days and three nights. At +the end of that time she was sort of pale and frazzled, but still +givin' points to three-year-old jerky on cohesion and other +uncompromisin' forces of Nature. We buried her then, and went out back +to recuperate. +</P> + +<P> +There we could gaze on the smilin' landscape, dotted by about four +hundred long-laigged chickens swoopin' here and there after +grasshoppers. +</P> + +<P> +"We got to stop that," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't," murmured Tusky, inspired. "We can't. It's born in 'em; +it's a primal instinct, like the love of a mother for her young, and it +can't be eradicated! Them chickens is constructed by a divine +providence for the express purpose of chasin' grasshoppers, jest as the +beaver is made for buildin' dams, and the cow-puncher is made for +whisky and faro-games. We can't keep 'em from it. If we was to shut +'em in a dark cellar, they'd flop after imaginary grasshoppers in their +dreams, and die emaciated in the midst of plenty. Jimmy, we're up agin +the Cosmos, the oversoul—" Oh, he had the medicine tongue, Tusky had, +and risin' on the wings of eloquence that way, he had me faded in ten +minutes. In fifteen I was wedded solid to the notion that the bottom +had dropped out of the chicken business. I think now that if we'd shut +them hens up, we might have—still, I don't know; they was a good deal +in what Tusky said. +</P> + +<P> +"Tuscarora Maxillary," says I, "did you ever stop to entertain that +beautiful thought that if all the dumfoolishness possessed now by the +human race could be gathered together, and lined up alongside of us, +the first feller to come along would say to it 'Why, hello, Solomon!'" +</P> + +<P> +We quit the notion of chickens for profit right then and there, but we +couldn't quit the place. We hadn't much money, for one thing, and then +we, kind of liked loafin' around and raisin' a little garden truck, +and—oh, well, I might as well say so, we had a notion about placers in +the dry wash back of the house you know how it is. So we stayed on, +and kept a-raisin' these long-laigs for the fun of it. I used to like +to watch 'em projectin' around, and I fed 'em twict a day about as +usual. +</P> + +<P> +So Tusky and I lived alone there together, happy as ducks in Arizona. +About onc't in a month somebody'd pike along the road. She wasn't much +of a road, generally more chuckholes than bumps, though sometimes it +was the other way around. Unless it happened to be a man horseback or +maybe a freighter without the fear of God in his soul, we didn't have +no words with them; they was too busy cussin' the highways and +generally too mad for social discourses. +</P> + +<P> +One day early in the year, when the 'dobe mud made ruts to add to the +bumps, one of these automobeels went past. It was the first Tusky and +me had seen in them parts, so we run out to view her. Owin' to the +high spots on the road, she looked like one of these movin' picters, as +to blur and wobble; sounded like a cyclone mingled with cuss-words, and +smelt like hell on housecleanin' day. +</P> + +<P> +"Which them folks don't seem to be enjoyin' of the scenery," says I to +Tusky. "Do you reckon that there blue trail is smoke from the machine +or remarks from the inhabitants thereof?" +</P> + +<P> +Tusky raised his head and sniffed long and inquirin'. +</P> + +<P> +"It's langwidge," says he. "Did you ever stop to think that all the +words in the dictionary stretched end to end would reach—" +</P> + +<P> +But at that minute I catched sight of somethin' brass lyin' in the +road. It proved to be a curled-up sort of horn with a rubber bulb on +the end. I squoze the bulb and jumped twenty foot over the remark she +made. +</P> + +<P> +"Jarred off the machine," says Tusky. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, did it?" says I, my nerves still wrong. "I thought maybe it had +growed up from the soil like a toadstool." +</P> + +<P> +About this time we abolished the wire chicken corrals, because we +needed some of the wire. Them long-laigs thereupon scattered all over +the flat searchin' out their prey. When feed time come I had to +screech my lungs out gettin' of 'em in, and then sometimes they didn't +all hear. It was plumb discouragin', and I mighty nigh made up my mind +to quit 'em, but they had come to be sort of pets, and I hated to turn +'em down. It used to tickle Tusky almost to death to see me out there +hollerin' away like an old bull-frog. He used to come out reg'lar, +with his pipe lit, just to enjoy me. Finally I got mad and opened up +on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," he explains, "it just plumb amuses me to see the dumfool at his +childish work. Why don't you teach 'em to come to that brass horn, and +save your voice?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tusky," says I, with feelin', "sometimes you do seem to get a glimmer +of real sense." +</P> + +<P> +Well, first off them chickens used to throw back-sommersets over that +horn. You have no idee how slow chickens is to learn things. I could +tell you things about chickens—say, this yere bluff about roosters +bein' gallant is all wrong. I've watched 'em. When one finds a nice +feed he gobbles it so fast that the pieces foller down his throat like +yearlin's through a hole in the fence. It's only when he scratches up +a measly one-grain quick-lunch that he calls up the hens and stands +noble and self-sacrificin' to one side. That ain't the point, which +is, that after two months I had them long-laigs so they'd drop +everythin' and come kitin' at the HONK-HONK of that horn. It was a +purty sight to see 'em, sailin' in from all directions twenty foot at a +stride. I was proud of 'em, and named 'em the Honk-honk Breed. We +didn't have no others, for by now the coyotes and bob-cats had nailed +the straight-breds. There wasn't no wild cat or coyote could catch one +of my Honk-honks, no, sir! +</P> + +<P> +We made a little on our placer—just enough to keep interested. Then +the supervisors decided to fix our road, and what's more, THEY DONE IT! +That's the only part in this yarn that's hard to believe, but, boys, +you'll have to take it on faith. They ploughed her, and crowned her, +and scraped her, and rolled her, and when they moved on we had the +fanciest highway in the State of Californy. +</P> + +<P> +That noon—the day they called her a job—Tusky and I sat smokin' our +pipes as per usual, when way over the foothills we seen a cloud of dust +and faint to our ears was bore a whizzin' sound. The chickens was +gathered under the cottonwood for the heat of the day, but they didn't +pay no attention. Then faint, but clear, we heard another of them +brass horns: +</P> + +<P> +"Honk! honk!" says it, and every one of them chickens woke up, and +stood at attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Honk! honk!" it hollered clearer and nearer. +</P> + +<P> +Then over the hill come an automobeel, blowin' vigorous at every jump. +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" I yells to Tusky, kickin' over my chair, as I springs to my +feet. "Stop 'em! Stop 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +But it was too late. Out the gate sprinted them poor devoted chickens, +and up the road they trailed in vain pursuit. The last we seen of 'em +was a mingling of dust and dim figgers goin' thirty mile an hour after +a disappearin' automobeel. +</P> + +<P> +That was all we seen for the moment. About three o'clock the first +straggler came limpin' in, his wings hangin', his mouth open, his eyes +glazed with the heat. By sundown fourteen had returned. All the rest +had disappeared utter; we never seen 'em again. I reckon they just +naturally run themselves into a sunstroke and died on the road. +</P> + +<P> +It takes a long time to learn a chicken a thing, but a heap longer to +unlearn him. After that two or three of these yere automobeels went by +every day, all a-blowin' of their horns, all kickin' up a hell of a +dust. And every time them fourteen Honk-honks of mine took along after +'em, just as I'd taught 'em to do, layin' to get to their corn when +they caught up. No more of 'em died, but that fourteen did get into +elegant trainin'. After a while they got plumb to enjoyin' it. When +you come right down to it, a chicken don't have many amusements and +relaxations in this life. Searchin' for worms, chasin' grasshoppers, +and wallerin' in the dust is about the limits of joys for chickens. +</P> + +<P> +It was sure a fine sight to see 'em after they got well into the game. +About nine o'clock every mornin' they would saunter down to the rise of +the road where they would wait patient until a machine came along. Then +it would warm your heart to see the enthusiasm of them. With, exultant +cackles of joy they'd trail in, reachin' out like quarter-horses, their +wings half spread out, their eyes beamin' with delight. At the lower +turn they'd quit. Then, after talkin' it over excited-like for a few +minutes, they'd calm down and wait for another. +</P> + +<P> +After a few months of this sort of trainin' they got purty good at it. +I had one two-year-old rooster that made fifty-four mile an hour behind +one of those sixty-horsepower Panhandles. When cars didn't come along +often enough, they'd all turn out and chase jack-rabbits. They wasn't +much fun at that. After a short, brief sprint the rabbit would crouch +down plumb terrified, while the Honk-honks pulled off triumphal dances +around his shrinkin' form. +</P> + +<P> +Our ranch got to be purty well known them days among automobeelists. +The strength of their cars was horse-power, of course, but the speed of +them they got to ratin' by chicken-power. Some of them used to come +way up from Los Angeles just to try out a new car along our road with +the Honk-honks for pace-makers. We charged them a little somethin', +and then, too, we opened up the road-house and the bar, so we did purty +well. It wasn't necessary to work any longer at that bogus placer. +Evenin's we sat around outside and swapped yarns, and I bragged on my +chickens. The chickens would gather round close to listen. +</P> + +<P> +They liked to hear their praises sung, all right. You bet they sabe! +The only reason a chicken, or any other critter, isn't intelligent is +because he hasn't no chance to expand. +</P> + +<P> +Why, we used to run races with 'em. Some of us would hold two or more +chickens back of a chalk line, and the starter'd blow the horn from a +hundred yards to a mile away, dependin' on whether it was a sprint or +for distance. We had pools on the results, gave odds, made books, and +kept records. After the thing got knowed we made money hand over fist. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The stranger broke off abruptly and began to roll a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you quit it for, then?" ventured Charley, out of the hushed +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Pride," replied the stranger solemnly. "Haughtiness of spirit." +</P> + +<P> +"How so?" urged Charley, after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Them chickens," continued the stranger, after a moment, "stood around +listenin' to me a-braggin' of what superior fowls they was until they +got all puffed up. They wouldn't have nothin' whatever to do with the +ordinary chickens we brought in for eatin' purposes, but stood around +lookin' bored when there wasn't no sport doin'. They got to be just +like that Four Hundred you read about in the papers. It was one +continual round of grasshopper balls, race meets, and afternoon +hen-parties. They got idle and haughty, just like folks. Then come +race suicide. They got to feelin' so aristocratic the hens wouldn't +have no eggs." +</P> + +<P> +Nobody dared say a word. +</P> + +<P> +"Windy Bill's snake—" began the narrator genially. +</P> + +<P> +"Stranger," broke in Windy Bill, with great emphasis, "as to that +snake, I want you to understand this: yereafter in my estimation that +snake is nothin' but an ornery angleworm!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0201"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART II +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE TWO GUN MAN +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CATTLE RUSTLERS +</H3> + +<P> +Buck Johnson was American born, but with a black beard and a dignity of +manner that had earned him the title of Senor. He had drifted into +southeastern Arizona in the days of Cochise and Victorio and Geronimo. +He had persisted, and so in time had come to control the water—and +hence the grazing—of nearly all the Soda Springs Valley. His troubles +were many, and his difficulties great. There were the ordinary +problems of lean and dry years. There were also the extraordinary +problems of devastating Apaches; rivals for early and ill-defined range +rights—and cattle rustlers. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Buck Johnson was a man of capacity, courage, directness of +method, and perseverance. Especially the latter. Therefore he had +survived to see the Apaches subdued, the range rights adjusted, his +cattle increased to thousands, grazing the area of a principality. +Now, all the energy and fire of his frontiersman's nature he had turned +to wiping out the third uncertainty of an uncertain business. He found +it a task of some magnitude. +</P> + +<P> +For Senor Buck Johnson lived just north of that terra incognita filled +with the mystery of a double chance of death from man or the flaming +desert known as the Mexican border. There, by natural gravitation, +gathered all the desperate characters of three States and two +republics. He who rode into it took good care that no one should ride +behind him, lived warily, slept light, and breathed deep when once he +had again sighted the familiar peaks of Cochise's Stronghold. No one +professed knowledge of those who dwelt therein. They moved, mysterious +as the desert illusions that compassed them about. As you rode, the +ranges of mountains visibly changed form, the monstrous, snaky, +sea-like growths of the cactus clutched at your stirrup, mock lakes +sparkled and dissolved in the middle distance, the sun beat hot and +merciless, the powdered dry alkali beat hotly and mercilessly back—and +strange, grim men, swarthy, bearded, heavily armed, with red-rimmed +unshifting eyes, rode silently out of the mists of illusion to look on +you steadily, and then to ride silently back into the desert haze. +They might be only the herders of the gaunt cattle, or again they might +belong to the Lost Legion that peopled the country. All you could know +was that of the men who entered in, but few returned. +</P> + +<P> +Directly north of this unknown land you encountered parallel fences +running across the country. They enclosed nothing, but offered a check +to the cattle drifting toward the clutch of the renegades, and an +obstacle to swift, dashing forays. +</P> + +<P> +Of cattle-rustling there are various forms. The boldest consists quite +simply of running off a bunch of stock, hustling it over the Mexican +line, and there selling it to some of the big Sonora ranch owners. +Generally this sort means war. Also are there subtler means, grading +in skill from the re-branding through a wet blanket, through the crafty +refashioning of a brand to the various methods of separating the cow +from her unbranded calf. In the course of his task Senor Buck Johnson +would have to do with them all, but at present he existed in a state of +warfare, fighting an enemy who stole as the Indians used to steal. +</P> + +<P> +Already he had fought two pitched battles and had won them both. His +cattle increased, and he became rich. Nevertheless he knew that +constantly his resources were being drained. Time and again he and his +new Texas foreman, Jed Parker, had followed the trail of a stampeded +bunch of twenty or thirty, followed them on down through the Soda +Springs Valley to the cut drift fences, there to abandon them. For, as +yet, an armed force would be needed to penetrate the borderland. Once +he and his men bad experienced the glory of a night pursuit. Then, at +the drift fences, he had fought one of his battles. But it was +impossible adequately to patrol all parts of a range bigger than some +Eastern States. +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson did his best, but it was like stopping with sand the +innumerable little leaks of a dam. Did his riders watch toward the +Chiricahuas, then a score of beef steers disappeared from Grant's Pass +forty miles away. Pursuit here meant leaving cattle unguarded there. +It was useless, and the Senor soon perceived that sooner or later he +must strike in offence. +</P> + +<P> +For this purpose he began slowly to strengthen the forces of his +riders. Men were coming in from Texas. They were good men, addicted +to the grass-rope, the double cinch, and the ox-bow stirrup. Senor +Johnson wanted men who could shoot, and he got them. +</P> + +<P> +"Jed," said Senor Johnson to his foreman, "the next son of a gun that +rustles any of our cows is sure loading himself full of trouble. We'll +hit his trail and will stay with it, and we'll reach his +cattle-rustling conscience with a rope." +</P> + +<P> +So it came about that a little army crossed the drift fences and +entered the border country. Two days later it came out, and mighty +pleased to be able to do so. The rope had not been used. +</P> + +<P> +The reason for the defeat was quite simple. The thief had run his +cattle through the lava beds where the trail at once became difficult +to follow. This delayed the pursuing party; they ran out of water, +and, as there was among them not one man well enough acquainted with +the country to know where to find more, they had to return. +</P> + +<P> +"No use, Buck," said Jed. "We'd any of us come in on a gun play, but +we can't buck the desert. We'll have to get someone who knows the +country." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right—but where?" queried Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Pereza," suggested Parker. "It's the only town down near that +country." +</P> + +<P> +"Might get someone there," agreed the Senor. +</P> + +<P> +Next day he rode away in search of a guide. The third evening he was +back again, much discouraged. +</P> + +<P> +"The country's no good," he explained. "The regular inhabitants 're a +set of Mexican bums and old soaks. The cowmen's all from north and +don't know nothing more than we do. I found lots who claimed to know +that country, but when I told 'em what I wanted they shied like a colt. +I couldn't hire 'em, for no money, to go down in that country. They +ain't got the nerve. I took two days to her, too, and rode out to a +ranch where they said a man lived who knew all about it down there. +Nary riffle. Man looked all right, but his tail went down like the +rest when I told him what we wanted. Seemed plumb scairt to death. +Says he lives too close to the gang. Says they'd wipe him out sure if +he done it. Seemed plumb SCAIRT." Buck Johnson grinned. "I told him +so and he got hosstyle right off. Didn't seem no ways scairt of me. I +don't know what's the matter with that outfit down there. They're +plumb terrorised." +</P> + +<P> +That night a bunch of steers was stolen from the very corrals of the +home ranch. The home ranch was far north, near Fort Sherman itself, +and so had always been considered immune from attack. Consequently +these steers were very fine ones. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time Buck Johnson lost his head and his dignity. He +ordered the horses. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to follow that — — into Sonora," he shouted to Jed Parker. +"This thing's got to stop!" +</P> + +<P> +"You can't make her, Buck," objected the foreman. "You'll get held up +by the desert, and, if that don't finish you, they'll tangle you up in +all those little mountains down there, and ambush you, and massacre +you. You know it damn well." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't give a —" exploded Senor Johnson, "if they do. No man can +slap my face and not get a run for it." +</P> + +<P> +Jed Parker communed with himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Senor," said he, at last, "it's no good; you can't do it. You got to +have a guide. You wait three days and I'll get you one." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't do it," insisted the Senor. "I tried every man in the +district." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you wait three days?" repeated the foreman. +</P> + +<P> +Johnson pulled loose his latigo. His first anger had cooled. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he agreed, "and you can say for me that I'll pay five +thousand dollars in gold and give all the men and horses he needs to +the man who has the nerve to get back that bunch of cattle, and bring +in the man who rustled them. I'll sure make this a test case." +</P> + +<P> +So Jed Parker set out to discover his man with nerve. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0202"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MAN WITH NERVE +</H3> + +<P> +At about ten o'clock of the Fourth of July a rider topped the summit of +the last swell of land, and loped his animal down into the single +street of Pereza. The buildings on either side were flat-roofed and +coated with plaster. Over the sidewalks extended wooden awnings, +beneath which opened very wide doors into the coolness of saloons. +Each of these places ran a bar, and also games of roulette, faro, +craps, and stud poker. Even this early in the morning every game was +patronised. +</P> + +<P> +The day was already hot with the dry, breathless, but exhilarating, +heat of the desert. A throng of men idling at the edge of the +sidewalks, jostling up and down their centre, or eddying into the +places of amusement, acknowledged the power of summer by loosening +their collars, carrying their coats on their arms. They were as yet +busily engaged in recognising acquaintances. Later they would drink +freely and gamble, and perhaps fight. Toward all but those whom they +recognised they preserved an attitude of potential suspicion, for here +were gathered the "bad men" of the border countries. A certain +jealousy or touchy egotism lest the other man be considered quicker on +the trigger, bolder, more aggressive than himself, kept each strung to +tension. An occasional shot attracted little notice. Men in the +cow-countries shoot as casually as we strike matches, and some subtle +instinct told them that the reports were harmless. +</P> + +<P> +As the rider entered the one street, however, a more definite cause of +excitement drew the loose population toward the centre of the road. +Immediately their mass blotted out what had interested them. Curiosity +attracted the saunterers; then in turn the frequenters of the bars and +gambling games. In a very few moments the barkeepers, gamblers, and +look-out men, held aloof only by the necessities of their calling, +alone of all the population of Pereza were not included in the +newly-formed ring. +</P> + +<P> +The stranger pushed his horse resolutely to the outer edge of the crowd +where, from his point of vantage, he could easily overlook their heads. +He was a quiet-appearing young fellow, rather neatly dressed in the +border costume, rode a "centre fire," or single-cinch, saddle, and wore +no chaps. He was what is known as a "two-gun man": that is to say, he +wore a heavy Colt's revolver on either hip. The fact that the lower +ends of his holsters were tied down, in order to facilitate the easy +withdrawal of the revolvers, seemed to indicate that he expected to use +them. He had furthermore a quiet grey eye, with the glint of steel +that bore out the inference of the tied holsters. +</P> + +<P> +The newcomer dropped his reins on his pony's neck, eased himself to an +attitude of attention, and looked down gravely on what was taking +place. He saw over the heads of the bystanders a tall, muscular, +wild-eyed man, hatless, his hair rumpled into staring confusion, his +right sleeve rolled to his shoulder, a wicked-looking nine-inch knife +in his hand, and a red bandana handkerchief hanging by one corner from +his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"What's biting the locoed stranger?" the young man inquired of his +neighbour. +</P> + +<P> +The other frowned at him darkly. +</P> + +<P> +"Dare's anyone to take the other end of that handkerchief in his teeth, +and fight it out without letting go." +</P> + +<P> +"Nice joyful proposition," commented the young man. +</P> + +<P> +He settled himself to closer attention. The wild-eyed man was talking +rapidly. What he said cannot be printed here. Mainly was it +derogatory of the southern countries. Shortly it became boastful of +the northern, and then of the man who uttered it. +</P> + +<P> +He swaggered up and down, becoming always the more insolent as his +challenge remained untaken. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you take him up?" inquired the young man, after a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Not me!" negatived the other vigorously. "I'll go yore little old +gunfight to a finish, but I don't want any cold steel in mine. Ugh! it +gives me the shivers. It's a reg'lar Mexican trick! With a gun it's +down and out, but this knife work is too slow and searchin'." +</P> + +<P> +The newcomer said nothing, but fixed his eye again on the raging man +with the knife. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you reckon he's bluffing?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Not any!" denied the other with emphasis. "He's jest drunk enough to +be crazy mad." +</P> + +<P> +The newcomer shrugged his shoulders and cast his glance searchingly +over the fringe of the crowd. It rested on a Mexican. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi, Tony! come here," he called. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican approached, flashing his white teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," said the stranger, "lend me your knife a minute." +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican, anticipating sport of his own peculiar kind, obeyed with +alacrity. +</P> + +<P> +"You fellows make me tired," observed the stranger, dismounting. "He's +got the whole townful of you bluffed to a standstill. Damn if I don't +try his little game." +</P> + +<P> +He hung his coat on his saddle, shouldered his way through the press, +which parted for him readily, and picked up the other corner of the +handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, you mangy son of a gun," said he. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0203"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THREE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE AGREEMENT +</H3> + +<P> +Jed Parker straightened his back, rolled up the bandana handkerchief, +and thrust it into his pocket, hit flat with his hand the touselled +mass of his hair, and thrust the long hunting knife into its sheath. +</P> + +<P> +"You're the man I want," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the two-gun man had jerked loose his weapons and was covering +the foreman. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I!" he snarled. +</P> + +<P> +"Not jest that way," explained Parker. "My gun is on my hoss, and you +can have this old toad-sticker if you want it. I been looking for you, +and took this way of finding you. Now, let's go talk." +</P> + +<P> +The stranger looked him in the eye for nearly a half minute without +lowering his revolvers. +</P> + +<P> +"I go you," said he briefly, at last. +</P> + +<P> +But the crowd, missing the purport, and in fact the very occurrence of +this colloquy, did not understand. It thought the bluff had been +called, and naturally, finding harmless what had intimidated it, gave +way to an exasperated impulse to get even. +</P> + +<P> +"You — — — bluffer!" shouted a voice, "don't you think you can run +any such ranikaboo here!" +</P> + +<P> +Jed Parker turned humorously to his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Do we get that talk?" he inquired gently. +</P> + +<P> +For answer the two-gun man turned and walked steadily in the direction +of the man who had shouted. The latter's hand strayed uncertainly +toward his own weapon, but the movement paused when the stranger's +clear, steel eye rested on it. +</P> + +<P> +"This gentleman," pointed out the two-gun man softly, "is an old friend +of mine. Don't you get to calling of him names." +</P> + +<P> +His eye swept the bystanders calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Jack," said he, addressing Parker. +</P> + +<P> +On the outskirts he encountered the Mexican from whom he had borrowed +the knife. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, Tony," said he with a slight laugh, "here's a peso. You'll find +your knife back there where I had to drop her." +</P> + +<P> +He entered a saloon, nodded to the proprietor, and led the way through +it to a boxlike room containing a board table and two chairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Make good," he commanded briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm looking for a man with nerve," explained Parker, with equal +succinctness. "You're the man." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know the country south of here?" +</P> + +<P> +The stranger's eyes narrowed. +</P> + +<P> +"Proceed," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm foreman of the Lazy Y of Soda Springs Valley range," explained +Parker. "I'm looking for a man with sand enough and sabe of the +country enough to lead a posse after cattle-rustlers into the border +country." +</P> + +<P> +"I live in this country," admitted the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"So do plenty of others, but their eyes stick out like two raw oysters +when you mention the border country. Will you tackle it?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the proposition?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come and see the old man. He'll put it to you." +</P> + +<P> +They mounted their horses and rode the rest of the day. The desert +compassed them about, marvellously changing shape and colour, and every +character, with all the noiselessness of phantasmagoria. At evening +the desert stars shone steady and unwinking, like the flames of +candles. By moonrise they came to the home ranch. +</P> + +<P> +The buildings and corrals lay dark and silent against the moonlight +that made of the plain a sea of mist. The two men unsaddled their +horses and turned them loose in the wire-fenced "pasture," the +necessary noises of their movements sounding sharp and clear against +the velvet hush of the night. After a moment they walked stiffly past +the sheds and cook shanty, past the men's bunk houses, and the tall +windmill silhouetted against the sky, to the main building of the home +ranch under its great cottonwoods. There a light still burned, for +this was the third day, and Buck Johnson awaited his foreman. +</P> + +<P> +Jed Parker pushed in without ceremony. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's your man, Buck," said he. +</P> + +<P> +The stranger had stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind +him. The lamplight threw into relief the bold, free lines of his face, +the details of his costume powdered thick with alkali, the shiny butts +of the two guns in their open holsters tied at the bottom. Equally it +defined the resolute countenance of Buck Johnson turned up in inquiry. +The two men examined each other—and liked each other at once. +</P> + +<P> +"How are you," greeted the cattleman. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-evening," responded the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," invited Buck Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +The stranger perched gingerly on the edge of a chair, with an +appearance less of embarrassment than of habitual alertness. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll take the job?" inquired the Senor. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't heard what it is," replied the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"Parker here—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Said you'd explain." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," said Buck Johnson. He paused a moment, collecting his +thoughts. "There's too much cattle-rustling here. I'm going to stop +it. I've got good men here ready to take the job, but no one who knows +the country south. Three days ago I had a bunch of cattle stolen right +here from the home-ranch corrals, and by one man, at that. It wasn't +much of a bunch—about twenty head—but I'm going to make a starter +right here, and now. I'm going to get that bunch back, and the man who +stole them, if I have to go to hell to do it. And I'm going to do the +same with every case of rustling that comes up from now on. I don't +care if it's only one cow, I'm going to get it back—every trip. Now, +I want to know if you'll lead a posse down into the south country and +bring out that last bunch, and the man who rustled them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know—" hesitated the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"I offer you five thousand dollars in gold if you'll bring back those +cows and the man who stole 'em," repeated Buck Johnson. "And I'll give +you all the horses and men you think you need." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do it," replied the two-gun man promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" cried Buck Johnson, "and you better start to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall start to-night—right now." +</P> + +<P> +"Better yet. How many men do you want, and grub for how long?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll play her a lone hand." +</P> + +<P> +"Alone!" exclaimed Johnson, his confidence visibly cooling. +</P> + +<P> +"Alone! Do you think you can make her?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be back with those cattle in not more than ten days." +</P> + +<P> +"And the man," supplemented the Senor. +</P> + +<P> +"And the man. What's more, I want that money here when I come in. I +don't aim to stay in this country over night." +</P> + +<P> +A grin overspread Buck Johnson's countenance. He understood. +</P> + +<P> +"Climate not healthy for you?" he hazarded. "I guess you'd be safe +enough all right with us. But suit yourself. The money will be here." +</P> + +<P> +"That's agreed?" insisted the two-gun man. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +"I want a fresh horse—I'll leave mine—he's a good one. I want a +little grub." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. Parker'll fit you out." +</P> + +<P> +The stranger rose. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see you in about ten days." +</P> + +<P> +"Good luck," Senor Buck Johnson wished him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0204"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOUR +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ACCOMPLISHMENT +</H3> + +<P> +The next morning Buck Johnson took a trip down into the "pasture" of +five hundred wire-fenced acres. +</P> + +<P> +"He means business," he confided to Jed Parker, on his return. "That +cavallo of his is a heap sight better than the Shorty horse we let him +take. Jed, you found your man with nerve, all right. How did you do +it?" +</P> + +<P> +The two settled down to wait, if not with confidence, at least with +interest. Sometimes, remembering the desperate character of the +outlaws, their fierce distrust of any intruder, the wildness of the +country, Buck Johnson and his foreman inclined to the belief that the +stranger had undertaken a task beyond the powers of any one man. +Again, remembering the stranger's cool grey eye, the poise of his +demeanour, the quickness of his movements, and the two guns with tied +holsters to permit of easy withdrawal, they were almost persuaded that +he might win. +</P> + +<P> +"He's one of those long-chance fellows," surmised Jed. "He likes +excitement. I see that by the way he takes up with my knife play. +He'd rather leave his hide on the fence than stay in the corral." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he's all right," replied Senor Buck Johnson, "and if he ever +gets back, which same I'm some doubtful of, his dinero'll be here for +him." +</P> + +<P> +In pursuance of this he rode in to Willets, where shortly the overland +train brought him from Tucson the five thousand dollars in double +eagles. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime the regular life of the ranch went on. Each morning +Sang, the Chinese cook, rang the great bell, summoning the men. They +ate, and then caught up the saddle horses for the day, turning those +not wanted from the corral into the pasture. Shortly they jingled away +in different directions, two by two, on the slow Spanish trot of the +cow-puncher. All day long thus they would ride, without food or water +for man or beast, looking the range, identifying the stock, branding +the young calves, examining generally into the state of affairs, gazing +always with grave eyes on the magnificent, flaming, changing, +beautiful, dreadful desert of the Arizona plains. At evening when the +coloured atmosphere, catching the last glow, threw across the +Chiricahuas its veil of mystery, they jingled in again, two by two, +untired, unhasting, the glory of the desert in their deep-set, steady +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +And all the day long, while they were absent, the cattle, too, made +their pilgrimage, straggling in singly, in pairs, in bunches, in long +files, leisurely, ruminantly, without haste. There, at the long +troughs filled by the windmill of the blindfolded pump mule, they +drank, then filed away again into the mists of the desert. And Senor +Buck Johnson, or his foreman, Parker, examined them for their +condition, noting the increase, remarking the strays from another +range. Later, perhaps, they, too, rode abroad. The same thing +happened at nine other ranches from five to ten miles apart, where +dwelt other fierce, silent men all under the authority of Buck Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +And when night fell, and the topaz and violet and saffron and amethyst +and mauve and lilac had faded suddenly from the Chiricahuas, like a +veil that has been rent, and the ramparts had become slate-grey and +then black—the soft-breathed night wandered here and there over the +desert, and the land fell under an enchantment even stranger than the +day's. +</P> + +<P> +So the days went by, wonderful, fashioning the ways and the characters +of men. Seven passed. Buck Johnson and his foreman began to look for +the stranger. Eight, they began to speculate. Nine, they doubted. On +the tenth they gave him up—and he came. +</P> + +<P> +They knew him first by the soft lowing of cattle. Jed Parker, dazzled +by the lamp, peered out from the door, and made him out dimly turning +the animals into the corral. A moment later his pony's hoofs impacted +softly on the baked earth, he dropped from the saddle and entered the +room. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm late," said he briefly, glancing at the clock, which indicated +ten; "but I'm here." +</P> + +<P> +His manner was quick and sharp, almost breathless, as though he had +been running. +</P> + +<P> +"Your cattle are in the corral: all of them. Have you the money?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have the money here," replied Buck Johnson, laying his hand against +a drawer, "and it's ready for you when you've earned it. I don't care +so much for the cattle. What I wanted is the man who stole them. Did +you bring him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I brought him," said the stranger. "Let's see that money." +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson threw open the drawer, and drew from it the heavy canvas +sack. +</P> + +<P> +"It's here. Now bring in your prisoner." +</P> + +<P> +The two-gun man seemed suddenly to loom large in the doorway. The +muzzles of his revolvers covered the two before him. His speech came +short and sharp. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you I'd bring back the cows and the one who rustled them," he +snapped. "I've never lied to a man yet. Your stock is in the corral. +I'll trouble you for that five thousand. I'm the man who stole your +cattle!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0301"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +PART III +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE RAWHIDE +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ONE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PASSING OF THE COLT'S FORTY-FIVE +</H3> + +<P> +The man of whom I am now to tell you came to Arizona in the early days +of Chief Cochise. He settled in the Soda Springs Valley, and there +persisted in spite of the devastating forays of that Apache. After a +time he owned all the wells and springs in the valley, and so, +naturally, controlled the grazing on that extensive free range. Once a +day the cattle, in twos and threes, in bands, in strings, could be seen +winding leisurely down the deep-trodden and converging trails to the +water troughs at the home ranch, there leisurely to drink, and then +leisurely to drift away into the saffron and violet and amethyst +distances of the desert. At ten other outlying ranches this daily +scene was repeated. All these cattle belonged to the man, great by +reason of his priority in the country, the balance of his even +character, and the grim determination of his spirit. +</P> + +<P> +When he had first entered Soda Springs Valley his companions had called +him Buck Johnson. Since then his form had squared, his eyes had +steadied to the serenity of a great authority, his mouth, shadowed by +the moustache and the beard, had closed straight in the line of power +and taciturnity. There was about him more than a trace of the Spanish. +So now he was known as Senor Johnson, although in reality he was +straight American enough. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson lived at the home ranch with a Chinese cook, and Parker, +his foreman. The home ranch was of adobe, built with loopholes like a +fort. In the obsolescence of this necessity, other buildings had +sprung up unfortified. An adobe bunkhouse for the cow-punchers, an +adobe blacksmith shop, a long, low stable, a shed, a windmill and +pond-like reservoir, a whole system of corrals of different sizes, a +walled-in vegetable garden—these gathered to themselves cottonwoods +from the moisture of their being, and so added each a little to the +green spot in the desert. In the smallest corral, between the stable +and the shed, stood a buckboard and a heavy wagon, the only wheeled +vehicles about the place. Under the shed were rows of saddles, riatas, +spurs mounted with silver, bits ornamented with the same metal, curved +short irons for the range branding, long, heavy "stamps" for the corral +branding. Behind the stable lay the "pasture," a thousand acres of +desert fenced in with wire. There the hardy cow-ponies sought out the +sparse, but nutritious, bunch grass, sixty of them, beautiful as +antelope, for they were the pick of Senor Johnson's herds. +</P> + +<P> +And all about lay the desert, shimmering, changing, many-tinted, +wonderful, hemmed in by the mountains that seemed tenuous and thin, +like beautiful mists, and by the sky that seemed hard and polished like +a turquoise. +</P> + +<P> +Each morning at six o'clock the ten cow-punchers of the home ranch +drove the horses to the corral, neatly roped the dozen to be "kept up" +for that day, and rewarded the rest with a feed of grain. Then they +rode away at a little fox trot, two by two. All day long they +travelled thus, conducting the business of the range, and at night, +having completed the circle, they jingled again into the corral. +</P> + +<P> +At the ten other ranches this programme had been duplicated. The +half-hundred men of Senor Johnson's outfit had covered the area of a +European principality. And all of it, every acre, every spear of +grass, every cactus prickle, every creature on it, practically belonged +to Senor Johnson, because Senor Johnson owned the water, and without +water one cannot exist on the desert. +</P> + +<P> +This result had not been gained without struggle. The fact could be +read in the settled lines of Senor Johnson's face, and the great calm +of his grey eye. Indian days drove him often to the shelter of the +loopholed adobe ranch house, there to await the soldiers from the Fort, +in plain sight thirty miles away on the slope that led to the foot of +the Chiricahuas. He lost cattle and some men, but the profits were +great, and in time Cochise, Geronimo, and the lesser lights had +flickered out in the winds of destiny. The sheep terror merely +threatened, for it was soon discovered that with the feed of Soda +Springs Valley grew a burr that annoyed the flocks beyond reason, so +the bleating scourge swept by forty miles away. Cattle rustling so +near the Mexican line was an easy matter. For a time Senor Johnson +commanded an armed band. He was lord of the high, the low, and the +middle justice. He violated international ethics, and for the laws of +nations he substituted his own. One by one he annihilated the thieves +of cattle, sometimes in open fight, but oftener by surprise and +deliberate massacre. The country was delivered. And then, with +indefatigable energy, Senor Johnson became a skilled detective. Alone, +or with Parker, his foreman, he rode the country through, gathering +evidence. When the evidence was unassailable he brought offenders to +book. The rebranding through a wet blanket he knew and could prove; +the ear-marking of an unbranded calf until it could be weaned he +understood; the paring of hoofs to prevent travelling he could tell as +far as he could see; the crafty alteration of similar brands—as when a +Mexican changed Johnson's Lazy Y to a Dumb-bell Bar—he saw through at +a glance. In short, the hundred and one petty tricks of the +sneak-thief he ferreted out, in danger of his life. Then he sent to +Phoenix for a Ranger—and that was the last of the Dumb-bell Bar brand, +or the Three Link Bar brand, or the Hour Glass Brand, or a half dozen +others. The Soda Springs Valley acquired a reputation for good order. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson at this stage of his career found himself dropping into a +routine. In March began the spring branding, then the corralling and +breaking of the wild horses, the summer range-riding, the great fall +round-up, the shipping of cattle, and the riding of the winter range. +This happened over and over again. +</P> + +<P> +You and I would not have suffered from ennui. The roping and throwing +and branding, the wild swing and dash of handling stock, the mad races +to head the mustangs, the fierce combats to subdue these raging wild +beasts to the saddle, the spectacle of the round-up with its brutish +multitudes and its graceful riders, the dust and monotony and +excitement and glory of the Trail, and especially the hundreds of +incidental and gratuitous adventures of bears and antelope, of thirst +and heat, of the joy of taking care of one's self—all these would have +filled our days with the glittering, changing throng of the unusual. +</P> + +<P> +But to Senor Johnson it had become an old story. After the days of +construction the days of accomplishment seemed to him lean. His men +did the work and reaped the excitement. Senor Johnson never thought +now of riding the wild horses, of swinging the rope coiled at his +saddle horn, or of rounding ahead of the flying herds. His inspections +were business inspections. The country was tame. The leather chaps +with the silver conchas hung behind the door. The Colt's forty-five +depended at the head of the bed. Senor Johnson rode in mufti. Of his +cowboy days persisted still the high-heeled boots and spurs, the broad +Stetson hat, and the fringed buckskin gauntlets. +</P> + +<P> +The Colt's forty-five had been the last to go. Finally one evening +Senor Johnson received an express package. He opened it before the +undemonstrative Parker. It proved to contain a pocket "gun"—a +nickel-plated, thirty-eight calibre Smith & Wesson "five-shooter." +Senor Johnson examined it a little doubtfully. In comparison with the +six-shooter it looked like a toy. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you, like her?" he inquired, handing the weapon to Parker. +</P> + +<P> +Parker turned it over and over, as a child a rattle. Then he returned +it to its owner. +</P> + +<P> +"Senor," said he, "if ever you shoot me with that little old gun, AND I +find it out the same day, I'll just raise hell with you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't reckon she'd INJURE a man much," agreed the Senor, "but +perhaps she'd call his attention." +</P> + +<P> +However, the "little old gun" took its place, not in Senor Johnson's +hip pocket, but inside the front waistband of his trousers, and the old +shiny Colt's forty-five, with its worn leather "Texas style" holster, +became a bedroom ornament. +</P> + +<P> +Thus, from a frontiersman dropped Senor Johnson to the status of a +property owner. In a general way he had to attend to his interests +before the cattlemen's association; he had to arrange for the buying +and shipping, and the rest was leisure. He could now have gone away +somewhere as far as time went. So can a fish live in trees—as far as +time goes. And in the daily riding, riding, riding over the range he +found the opportunity for abstract thought which the frontier life had +crowded aside. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0302"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWO +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHAPES OF ILLUSION +</H3> + +<P> +Every day, as always, Senor Johnson rode abroad over the land. His +surroundings had before been accepted casually as a more or less +pertinent setting of action and condition. Now he sensed some of the +fascination of the Arizona desert. +</P> + +<P> +He noticed many things before unnoticed. As he jingled loosely along +on his cow-horse, he observed how the animal waded fetlock deep in the +gorgeous orange California poppies, and then he looked up and about, +and saw that the rich colour carpeted the landscape as far as his eye +could reach, so that it seemed as though he could ride on and on +through them to the distant Chiricahuas. Only, close under the hills, +lay, unobtrusive, a narrow streak of grey. And in a few hours he had +reached the streak of grey, and ridden out into it to find himself the +centre of a limitless alkali plain, so that again it seemed the valley +could contain nothing else of importance. +</P> + +<P> +Looking back, Senor Johnson could discern a tenuous ribbon of +orange—the poppies. And perhaps ahead a little shadow blotted the +face of the alkali, which, being reached and entered, spread like fire +until it, too, filled the whole plain, until it, too, arrogated to +itself the right of typifying Soda Springs Valley as a shimmering +prairie of mesquite. Flowered upland, dead lowland, brush, cactus, +volcanic rock, sand, each of these for the time being occupied the +whole space, broad as the sea. In the circlet of the mountains was +room for many infinities. +</P> + +<P> +Among the foothills Senor Johnson, for the first time, appreciated +colour. Hundreds of acres of flowers filled the velvet creases of the +little hills and washed over the smooth, rounded slopes so accurately +in the placing and manner of tinted shadows that the mind had +difficulty in believing the colour not to have been shaded in actually +by free sweeps of some gigantic brush. A dozen shades of pinks and +purples, a dozen of blues, and then the flame reds, the yellows, and +the vivid greens. Beyond were the mountains in their glory of volcanic +rocks, rich as the tapestry of a Florentine palace. And, modifying all +the others, the tinted atmosphere of the south-west, refracting the sun +through the infinitesimal earth motes thrown up constantly by the wind +devils of the desert, drew before the scene a delicate and gauzy veil +of lilac, of rose, of saffron, of amethyst, or of mauve, according to +the time of day. Senor Johnson discovered that looking at the +landscape upside down accentuated the colour effects. It amused him +vastly suddenly to bend over his saddle horn, the top of his head +nearly touching his horse's mane. The distant mountains at once +started out into redder prominence; their shadows of purple deepened to +the royal colour; the rose veil thickened. +</P> + +<P> +"She's the prettiest country God ever made!" exclaimed Senor Johnson +with entire conviction. +</P> + +<P> +And no matter where he went, nor into how familiar country he rode, the +shapes of illusion offered always variety. One day the Chiricahuas +were a tableland; next day a series of castellated peaks; now an anvil; +now a saw tooth; and rarely they threw a magnificent suspension bridge +across the heavens to their neighbours, the ranges on the west. Lakes +rippling in the wind and breaking on the shore, cattle big as elephants +or small as rabbits, distances that did not exist and forests that +never were, beds of lava along the hills swearing to a cloud shadow, +while the sky was polished like a precious stone—these, and many other +beautiful and marvellous but empty shows the great desert displayed +lavishly, with the glitter and inconsequence of a dream. Senor Johnson +sat on his horse in the hot sun, his chin in his band, his elbow on the +pommel, watching it all with grave, unshifting eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Occasionally, belated, he saw the stars, the wonderful desert stars, +blazing clear and unflickering, like the flames of candles. Or the +moon worked her necromancies, hemming him in by mountains ten thousand +feet high through which there was no pass. And then as he rode, the +mountains shifted like the scenes in a theatre, and he crossed the +little sand dunes out from the dream country to the adobe corrals of +the home ranch. +</P> + +<P> +All these things, and many others, Senor Johnson now saw for the first +time, although he had lived among them for twenty years. It struck him +with the freshness of a surprise. Also it reacted chemically on his +mental processes to generate a new power within him. The new power, +being as yet unapplied, made him uneasy and restless and a little +irritable. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to show some of his wonders to Parker. +</P> + +<P> +"Jed," said he, one day, "this is a great country." +</P> + +<P> +"You KNOW it," replied the foreman. +</P> + +<P> +"Those tourists in their nickel-plated Pullmans call this a desert. +Desert, hell! Look at them flowers!" +</P> + +<P> +The foreman cast an eye on a glorious silken mantle of purple, a +hundred yards broad. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," he agreed; "shows what we could do if we only had a little +water." +</P> + +<P> +And again: "Jed," began the Senor, "did you ever notice them +mountains?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," agreed Jed. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't that a pretty colour?" +</P> + +<P> +"You bet," agreed the foreman; "now you're talking! I always, said +they was mineralised enough to make a good prospect." +</P> + +<P> +This was unsatisfactory. Senor Johnson grew more restless. His +critical eye began to take account of small details. At the ranch +house one evening he, on a sudden, bellowed loudly for Sang, the +Chinese servant. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at these!" he roared, when Sang appeared. +</P> + +<P> +Sang's eyes opened in bewilderment. +</P> + +<P> +"There, and there!" shouted the cattleman. "Look at them old newspapers +and them gun rags! The place is like a cow-yard. Why in the name of +heaven don't you clean up here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Allee light," babbled Sang; "I clean him." +</P> + +<P> +The papers and gun rags had lain there unnoticed for nearly a year. +Senor Johnson kicked them savagely. +</P> + +<P> +"It's time we took a brace here," he growled, "we're livin' like a lot +of Oilers." [5] +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[5] Oilers: Greasers—Mexicans +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0303"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THREE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PAPER A YEAR OLD +</H3> + +<P> +Sang hurried out for a broom. Senor Johnson sat where he was, his +heavy, square brows knit. Suddenly he stooped, seized one of the +newspapers, drew near the lamp, and began to read. +</P> + +<P> +It was a Kansas City paper and, by a strange coincidence, was dated +exactly a year before. The sheet Senor Johnson happened to pick up was +one usually passed over by the average newspaper reader. It contained +only columns of little two- and three-line advertisements classified as +Help Wanted, Situations Wanted, Lost and Found, and Personal. The +latter items Senor Johnson commenced to read while awaiting Sang and +the broom. +</P> + +<P> +The notices were five in number. The first three were of the +mysterious newspaper-correspondence type, in which Birdie beseeches +Jack to meet her at the fountain; the fourth advertised a clairvoyant. +Over the fifth Senor Johnson paused long. It reads +</P> + +<P> +"WANTED.-By an intelligent and refined lady of pleasing appearance, +correspondence with a gentleman of means. Object matrimony." +</P> + +<P> +Just then Sang returned with the broom and began noisily to sweep +together the debris. The rustling of papers aroused Senor Johnson from +his reverie. At once he exploded. +</P> + +<P> +"Get out of here, you debased Mongolian," he shouted; "can't you see +I'm reading?" +</P> + +<P> +Sang fled, sorely puzzled, for the Senor was calm and unexcited and +aloof in his everyday habit. +</P> + +<P> +Soon Jed Parker, tall, wiry, hawk-nosed, deliberate, came into the room +and flung his broad hat and spurs into the corner. Then he proceeded +to light his pipe and threw the burned match on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Been over to look at the Grant Pass range," he announced cheerfully. +"She's no good. Drier than cork legs. Th' country wouldn't support +three horned toads." +</P> + +<P> +"Jed," quoth the Senor solemnly, "I wisht you'd hang up your hat like I +have. It don't look good there on the floor." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, sure," agreed Jed, with an astonished stare. +</P> + +<P> +Sang brought in supper and slung it on the red and white squares of +oilcloth. Then he moved the lamp and retired. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson gazed with distaste into his cup. +</P> + +<P> +"This coffee would float a wedge," he commented sourly. +</P> + +<P> +"She's no puling infant," agreed the cheerful Jed. +</P> + +<P> +"And this!" went on the Senor, picking up what purported to be plum +duff: "Bog down a few currants in dough and call her pudding!" +</P> + +<P> +He ate in silence, then pushed back his chair and went to the window, +gazing through its grimy panes at the mountains, ethereal in their +evening saffron. +</P> + +<P> +"Blamed Chink," he growled; "why don't he wash these windows?" +</P> + +<P> +Jed laid down his busy knife and idle fork to gaze on his chief with +amazement. Buck Johnson, the austere, the aloof, the grimly taciturn, +the dangerous, to be thus complaining like a querulous woman! +</P> + +<P> +"Senor," said he, "you're off your feed." +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson strode savagely to the table and sat down with a bang. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sick of it," he growled; "this thing will kill me off. I might as +well go be a buck nun and be done with it." +</P> + +<P> +With one round-arm sweep he cleared aside the dishes. +</P> + +<P> +"Give me that pen and paper behind you," he requested. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour he wrote and destroyed. The floor became littered with +torn papers. Then he enveloped a meagre result. Parker had watched +him in silence. +</P> + +<P> +The Senor looked up to catch his speculative eye. His own eye twinkled +a little, but the twinkle was determined and sinister, with only an +alloy of humour. +</P> + +<P> +"Senor," ventured Parker slowly, "this event sure knocks me hell-west +and crooked. If the loco you have culled hasn't paralysed your +speaking parts, would you mind telling me what in the name of heaven, +hell, and high-water is up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to get married," announced the Senor calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" shouted Parker; "who to?" +</P> + +<P> +"To a lady," replied the Senor, "an intelligent and refined lady—of +pleasing appearance." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0304"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOUR +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DREAMS +</H3> + +<P> +Although the paper was a year old, Senor Johnson in due time received +an answer from Kansas. A correspondence ensued. Senor Johnson +enshrined above the big fireplace the photograph of a woman. Before +this he used to stand for hours at a time slowly constructing in his +mind what he had hitherto lacked—an ideal of woman and of home. This +ideal he used sometimes to express to himself and to the ironical Jed. +</P> + +<P> +"It must sure be nice to have a little woman waitin' for you when you +come in off'n the desert." +</P> + +<P> +Or: "Now, a woman would have them windows just blooming with flowers +and white curtains and such truck." +</P> + +<P> +Or: "I bet that Sang would get a wiggle on him with his little old +cleaning duds if he had a woman ahold of his jerk line." +</P> + +<P> +Slowly he reconstructed his life, the life of the ranch, in terms of +this hypothesised feminine influence. Then matters came to an +understanding, Senor Johnson had sent his own portrait. Estrella Sands +wrote back that she adored big black beards, but she was afraid of him, +he had such a fascinating bad eye: no woman could resist him. Senor +Johnson at once took things for granted, sent on to Kansas a +preposterous sum of "expense" money and a railroad ticket, and raided +Goodrich's store at Willets, a hundred miles away, for all manner of +gaudy carpets, silverware, fancy lamps, works of art, pianos, linen, +and gimcracks for the adornment of the ranch house. Furthermore, he +offered wages more than equal to a hundred miles of desert to a young +Irish girl, named Susie O'Toole, to come out as housekeeper, decorator, +boss of Sang and another Chinaman, and companion to Mrs. Johnson when +she should arrive. +</P> + +<P> +Furthermore, he laid off from the range work Brent Palmer, the most +skilful man with horses, and set him to "gentling" a beautiful little +sorrel. A sidesaddle had arrived from El Paso. It was "centre fire," +which is to say it had but the single horsehair cinch, broad, +tasselled, very genteel in its suggestion of pleasure use only. Brent +could be seen at all times of day, cantering here and there on the +sorrel, a blanket tied around his waist to simulate the long riding +skirt. He carried also a sulky and evil gleam in his eye, warning +against undue levity. +</P> + +<P> +Jed Parker watched these various proceedings sardonically. +</P> + +<P> +Once, the baby light of innocence blue in his eye, he inquired if he +would be required to dress for dinner. +</P> + +<P> +"If so," he went on, "I'll have my man brush up my low-necked clothes." +</P> + +<P> +But Senor Johnson refused to be baited. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Jed," said he; "you know you ain't got clothes enough to dust a +fiddle." +</P> + +<P> +The Senor was happy these days. He showed it by an unwonted joviality +of spirit, by a slight but evident unbending of his Spanish dignity. +No longer did the splendour of the desert fill him with a vague +yearning and uneasiness. He looked upon it confidently, noting its +various phases with care, rejoicing in each new development of colour +and light, of form and illusion, storing them away in his memory so +that their recurrence should find him prepared to recognise and explain +them. For soon he would have someone by his side with whom to +appreciate them. In that sharing he could see the reason for them, the +reason for their strange bitter-sweet effects on the human soul. +</P> + +<P> +One evening he leaned on the corral fence, looking toward the Dragoons. +The sun had set behind them. Gigantic they loomed against the western +light. From their summits, like an aureola, radiated the splendour of +the dust-moted air, this evening a deep umber. A faint reflection of +it fell across the desert, glorifying the reaches of its nothingness. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take her out on an evening like this," quoth Senor Johnson to +himself, "and I'll make her keep her eyes on the ground till we get +right up by Running Bear Knob, and then I'll let her look up all to +once. And she'll surely enjoy this life. I bet she never saw a steer +roped in her life. She can ride with me every day out over the range +and I'll show her the busting and the branding and that band of +antelope over by the Tall Windmill. I'll teach her to shoot, too. And +we can make little pack trips off in the hills when she gets too +hot—up there by Deerskin Meadows 'mongst the high peaks." +</P> + +<P> +He mused, turning over in his mind a new picture of his own life, aims, +and pursuits as modified by the sympathetic and understanding +companionship of a woman. He pictured himself as he must seem to her +in his different pursuits. The picturesqueness pleased him. The +simple, direct vanity of the man—the wholesome vanity of a +straightforward nature—awakened to preen its feathers before the idea +of the mate. +</P> + +<P> +The shadows fell. Over the Chiricahuas flared the evening star. The +plain, self-luminous with the weird lucence of the arid lands, showed +ghostly. Jed Parker, coming out from the lamp-lit adobe, leaned his +elbows on the rail in silent company with his chief. He, too, looked +abroad. His mind's eye saw what his body's eye had always told him +were the insistent notes—the alkali, the cactus, the sage, the +mesquite, the lava, the choking dust, the blinding beat, the burning +thirst. He sighed in the dim half recollection of past days. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if she'll like the country?" he hazarded. +</P> + +<P> +But Senor Johnson turned on him his steady eyes, filled with the great +glory of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +"Like the country!" he marvelled slowly. "Of course! Why shouldn't +she?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0305"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ARRIVAL +</H3> + +<P> +The Overland drew into Willets, coated from engine to observation with +white dust. A porter, in strange contrast of neatness, flung open the +vestibule, dropped his little carpeted step, and turned to assist +someone. A few idle passengers gazed out on the uninteresting, flat +frontier town. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson caught his breath in amazement. "God! Ain't she just +like her picture!" he exclaimed. He seemed to find this astonishing. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he did not step forward to claim her, so she stood looking +about her uncertainly, her leather suit-case at her feet. +</P> + +<P> +She was indeed like the photograph. The same full-curved, compact +little figure, the same round face, the same cupid's bow mouth, the +same appealing, large eyes, the same haze of doll's hair. In a moment +she caught sight of Senor Johnson and took two steps toward him, then +stopped. The Senor at once came forward. +</P> + +<P> +"You're Mr. Johnson, ain't you?" she inquired, thrusting her little +pointed chin forward, and so elevating her baby-blue eyes to his. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," he acknowledged formally. Then, after a moment's pause: +"I hope you're well." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, thank you." +</P> + +<P> +The station loungers, augmented by all the ranchmen and cowboys in +town, were examining her closely. She looked at them in a swift side +glance that seemed to gather all their eyes to hers. Then, satisfied +that she possessed the universal admiration, she returned the full +force of her attention to the man before her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you give me your trunk checks," he was saying, "and then we'll go +right over and get married." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, ain't it?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I suppose so," she agreed faintly. +</P> + +<P> +A little subdued, she followed him to the clergyman's house, where, in +the presence of Goodrich, the storekeeper, and the preacher's wife, the +two were united. Then they mounted the buckboard and drove from town. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson said nothing, because he knew of nothing to say. He +drove skilfully and fast through the gathering dusk. It was a hundred +miles to the home ranch, and that hundred miles, by means of five +relays of horses already arranged for, they would cover by morning. +Thus they would avoid the dust and heat and high winds of the day. +</P> + +<P> +The sweet night fell. The little desert winds laid soft fingers on +their checks. Overhead burned the stars, clear, unflickering, like +candles. Dimly could be seen the horses, their flanks swinging +steadily in the square trot. Ghostly bushes passed them; ghostly rock +elevations. Far, in indeterminate distance, lay the outlines of the +mountains. Always, they seemed to recede. The plain, all but +invisible, the wagon trail quite so, the depths of space—these flung +heavy on the soul their weight of mysticism. The woman, until now bolt +upright in the buckboard seat, shrank nearer to the man. He felt +against his sleeve the delicate contact of her garment and thrilled to +the touch. A coyote barked sharply from a neighbouring eminence, then +trailed off into the long-drawn, shrill howl of his species. +</P> + +<P> +"What was that?" she asked quickly, in a subdued voice. +</P> + +<P> +"A coyote—one of them little wolves," he explained. +</P> + +<P> +The horses' hoofs rang clear on a hardened bit of the alkali crust, +then dully as they encountered again the dust of the plain. Vast, +vague, mysterious in the silence of night, filled with strange +influences breathing through space like damp winds, the desert took +them to the heart of her great spaces. +</P> + +<P> +"Buck," she whispered, a little tremblingly. It was the first time she +had spoken his name. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he asked, a new note in his voice. +</P> + +<P> +But for a time she did not reply. Only the contact against his sleeve +increased by ever so little. +</P> + +<P> +"Buck," she repeated, then all in a rush and with a sob, "Oh, I'm +afraid." +</P> + +<P> +Tenderly the man drew her to him. Her head fell against his shoulder +and she hid her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"There, little girl," he reassured her, his big voice rich and musical. +"There's nothing to get scairt of, I'll take care of you. What +frightens you, honey?" +</P> + +<P> +She nestled close in his arm with a sigh of half relief. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," she laughed, but still with a tremble in her tones. +"It's all so big and lonesome and strange—and I'm so little." +</P> + +<P> +"There, little girl," he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +They drove on and on. At the end of two hours they stopped. Men with +lanterns dazzled their eyes. The horses were changed, and so out again +into the night where the desert seemed to breathe in deep, mysterious +exhalations like a sleeping beast. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson drove his horses masterfully with his one free hand. The +road did not exist, except to his trained eyes. They seemed to be +swimming out, out, into a vapour of night with the wind of their going +steady against their faces. +</P> + +<P> +"Buck," she murmured, "I'm so tired." +</P> + +<P> +He tightened his arm around her and she went to sleep, half-waking at +the ranches where the relays waited, dozing again as soon as the +lanterns dropped behind. And Senor Johnson, alone with his horses and +the solemn stars, drove on, ever on, into the desert. +</P> + +<P> +By grey of the early summer dawn they arrived. The girl wakened, +descended, smiling uncertainly at Susie O'Toole, blinking somnolently +at her surroundings. Susie put her to bed in the little southwest room +where hung the shiny Colt's forty-five in its worn leather +"Texas-style" holster. She murmured incoherent thanks and sank again +to sleep, overcome by the fatigue of unaccustomed travelling, by the +potency of the desert air, by the excitement of anticipation to which +her nerves had long been strung. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson did not sleep. He was tough, and used to it. He lit a +cigar and rambled about, now reading the newspapers he had brought with +him, now prowling softly about the building, now visiting the corrals +and outbuildings, once even the thousand-acre pasture where his +saddle-horse knew him and came to him to have its forehead rubbed. The +dawn broke in good earnest, throwing aside its gauzy draperies of +mauve. Sang, the Chinese cook, built his fire. Senor Johnson forbade +him to clang the rising bell, and himself roused the cow-punchers. The +girl slept on. Senor Johnson tip-toed a dozen times to the bedroom +door. Once he ventured to push it open. He looked long within, then +shut it softly and tiptoed out into the open, his eyes shining. +</P> + +<P> +"Jed," he said to his foreman, "you don't know how it made me feel. To +see her lying there so pink and soft and pretty, with her yaller hair +all tumbled about and a little smile on her—there in my old bed, with +my old gun hanging over her that way—By Heaven, Jed, it made me feel +almost HOLY!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0306"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAGON TIRE +</H3> + +<P> +About noon she emerged from the room, fully refreshed and wide awake. +She and Susie O'Toole had unpacked at least one of the trunks, and now +she stood arrayed in shirtwaist and blue skirt. +</P> + +<P> +At once she stepped into the open air and looked about her with +considerable curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"So this is a real cattle ranch," was her comment. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson was at her side pressing on her with boyish eagerness the +sights of the place. She patted the stag hounds and inspected the +garden. Then, confessing herself hungry, she obeyed with alacrity +Sang's call to an early meal. At the table she ate coquettishly, +throwing her birdlike side glances at the man opposite. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to see a real cowboy," she announced, as she pushed her chair +back. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, sure!" cried Senor Johnson joyously. "Sang! hi, Sang! Tell +Brent Palmer to step in here a minute." +</P> + +<P> +After an interval the cowboy appeared, mincing in on his high-heeled +boots, his silver spurs jingling, the fringe of his chaps impacting +softly on the leather. He stood at ease, his broad hat in both hands, +his dark, level brows fixed on his chief. +</P> + +<P> +"Shake hands with Mrs. Johnson, Brent. I called you in because she +said she wanted to see a real cow-puncher." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, BUCK!" cried the woman. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant the cow-puncher's level brows drew together. Then he +caught the woman's glance fair. He smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I ain't much to look at," he proffered. +</P> + +<P> +"That's not for you to say, sir," said Estrella, recovering. +</P> + +<P> +"Brent, here, gentled your pony for you," exclaimed Senor Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," cried Estrella, "have I a pony? How nice. And it was so good of +you, Mr. Brent. Can't I see him? I want to see him. I want to give +him a piece of sugar." She fumbled in the bowl. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure you can see him. I don't know as he'll eat sugar. He ain't that +educated. Think you could teach him to eat sugar, Brent?" +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon," replied the cowboy. +</P> + +<P> +They went out toward the corral, the cowboy joining them as a matter of +course. Estrella demanded explanations as she went along. Their +progress was leisurely. The blindfolded pump mule interested her. +</P> + +<P> +"And he goes round and round that way all day without stopping, +thinking he's really getting somewhere!" she marvelled. "I think that's +a shame! Poor old fellow, to get fooled that way!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is some foolish," said Brent Palmer, "but he ain't any worse off +than a cow-pony that hikes out twenty mile and then twenty back." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I suppose not," admitted Estrella. +</P> + +<P> +"And we got to have water, you know," added Senor Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +Brent rode up the sorrel bareback. The pretty animal, gentle as a +kitten, nevertheless planted his forefeet strongly and snorted at +Estrella. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon he ain't used to the sight of a woman," proffered the Senor, +disappointed. "He'll get used to you. Go up to him soft-like and rub +him between the eyes."' +</P> + +<P> +Estrella approached, but the pony jerked back his head with every +symptom of distrust. She forgot the sugar she had intended to offer +him. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a perfect beauty," she said at last, "but, my! I'd never dare +ride him. I'm awful scairt of horses." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he'll come around all right," assured Brent easily. "I'll fix him." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Brent," she exclaimed, "don't think I don't appreciate what +you've done. I'm sure he's really just as gentle as he can be. It's +only that I'm foolish." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll fix him," repeated Brent. +</P> + +<P> +The two men conducted her here and there, showing her the various +institutions of the place. A man bent near the shed nailing a shoe to +a horse's hoof. +</P> + +<P> +"So you even have a blacksmith!" said Estrella. Her guides laughed +amusedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Tommy, come here!" called the Senor. +</P> + +<P> +The horseshoer straightened up and approached. He was a lithe, +curly-haired young boy, with a reckless, humorous eye and a smooth +face, now red from bending over. +</P> + +<P> +"Tommy, shake hands with Mrs. Johnson," said the Senor. "Mrs. Johnson +wants to know if you're the blacksmith." He exploded in laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, BUCK!" cried Estrella again. +</P> + +<P> +"No, ma'am," answered the boy directly; "I'm just tacking a shoe on +Danger, here. We all does our own blacksmithing." +</P> + +<P> +His roving eye examined her countenance respectfully, but with +admiration. She caught the admiration and returned it, covertly but +unmistakably, pleased that her charms were appreciated. +</P> + +<P> +They continued their rounds. The sun was very hot and the dust deep. +A woman would have known that these things distressed Estrella. She +picked her way through the debris; she dropped her head from the +burning; she felt her delicate garments moistening with perspiration, +her hair dampening; the dust sifted up through the air. Over in the +large corral a bronco buster, assisted by two of the cowboys, was +engaged in roping and throwing some wild mustangs. The sight was +wonderful, but here the dust billowed in clouds. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm getting a little hot and tired," she confessed at last. "I think +I'll go to the house." +</P> + +<P> +But near the shed she stopped again, interested in spite of herself by +a bit of repairing Tommy had under way. The tire of a wagon wheel had +been destroyed. Tommy was mending it. On the ground lay a fresh +cowhide. From this Tommy was cutting a wide strip. As she watched he +measured the strip around the circumference of the wheel. +</P> + +<P> +"He isn't going to make a tire of that!" she exclaimed, incredulously. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," replied Senor Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +"Will it wear?" +</P> + +<P> +"It'll wear for a month or so, till we can get another from town." +</P> + +<P> +Estrella advanced and felt curiously of the rawhide. Tommy was +fastening it to the wheel at the ends only. +</P> + +<P> +"But how can it stay on that way?" she objected. "It'll come right off +as soon as you use it." +</P> + +<P> +"It'll harden on tight enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" she persisted. "Does it shrink much when it dries?" +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson stared to see if she might be joking. "Does it shrink?" +he repeated slowly. "There ain't nothing shrinks more, nor harder. +It'll mighty nigh break that wood." +</P> + +<P> +Estrella, incredulous, interested, she could not have told why, stooped +again to feel the soft, yielding hide. She shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"You're joking me because I'm a tenderfoot," she accused brightly. "I +know it dries hard, and I'll believe it shrinks a lot, but to break +wood—that's piling it on a little thick." +</P> + +<P> +"No, that's right, ma'am," broke in Brent Palmer. "It's awful strong. +It pulls like a horse when the desert sun gets on it. You wrap +anything up in a piece of that hide and see what happens. Some time +you take and wrap a piece around a potato and put her out in the sun +and see how it'll squeeze the water out of her." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" she appealed to Tommy. "I can't tell when they are making +fun of me." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am, that's right," he assured her. +</P> + +<P> +Estrella passed a strip of the flexible hide playfully about her wrists. +</P> + +<P> +"And if I let that dry that way I'd be handcuffed hard and fast," she +said. +</P> + +<P> +"It would cut you down to the bone," supplemented Brent Palmer. +</P> + +<P> +She untwisted the strip, and stood looking at it, her eyes wide. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't know why—" she faltered. "The thought makes me a little +sick. Why, isn't it queer? Ugh! it's like a snake!" She flung it +from her energetically and turned toward the ranch house. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0307"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ESTRELLA +</H3> + +<P> +The honeymoon developed and the necessary adjustments took place. The +latter Senor Johnson had not foreseen; and yet, when the necessity for +them arose, he acknowledged them right and proper. +</P> + +<P> +"Course she don't want to ride over to Circle I with us," he informed +his confidant, Jed Parker. "It's a long ride, and she ain't used to +riding yet. Trouble is I've been thinking of doing things with her +just as if she was a man. Women are different. They likes different +things." +</P> + +<P> +This second idea gradually overlaid the first in Senor Johnson's mind. +Estrella showed little aptitude or interest in the rougher side of +life. Her husband's statement as to her being still unused to riding +was distinctly a euphemism. Estrella never arrived at the point of +feeling safe on a horse. In time she gave up trying, and the sorrel +drifted back to cow-punching. The range work she never understood. +</P> + +<P> +As a spectacle it imposed itself on her interest for a week; but since +she could discover no real and vital concern in the welfare of cows, +soon the mere outward show became an old story. Estrella's sleek +nature avoided instinctively all that interfered with bodily +well-being. When she was cool and well-fed and not thirsty, and +surrounded by a proper degree of feminine daintiness, then she was +ready to amuse herself. But she could not understand the desirability +of those pleasures for which a certain price in discomfort must be +paid. As for firearms, she confessed herself frankly afraid of them. +That was the point at which her intimacy with them stopped. +</P> + +<P> +The natural level to which these waters fell is easily seen. Quite +simply, the Senor found that a wife does not enter fully into her +husband's workaday life. The dreams he had dreamed did not come true. +</P> + +<P> +This was at first a disappointment to him, of course, but the +disappointment did not last. Senor Johnson was a man of sense, and he +easily modified his first scheme of married life. +</P> + +<P> +"She'd get sick of it, and I'd get sick of it," he formulated his new +philosophy. "Now I got something to come back to, somebody to look +forward to. And it's a WOMAN; it ain't one of these darn gangle-leg +cowgirls. The great thing is to feel you BELONG to someone; and that +someone nice and cool and fresh and purty is waitin' for you when you +come in tired. It beats that other little old idee of mine slick as a +gun barrel." +</P> + +<P> +So, during this, the busy season of the range riding, immediately +before the great fall round-ups, Senor Johnson rode abroad all day, and +returned to his own hearth as many evenings of the week as he could. +Estrella always saw him coming and stood in the doorway to greet him. +He kicked off his spurs, washed and dusted himself, and spent the +evening with his wife. He liked the sound of exactly that phrase, and +was fond of repeating it to himself in a variety of connections. +</P> + +<P> +"When I get in I'll spend the evening with my wife." "If I don't ride +over to Circle I, I'll spend the evening with my wife," and so on. He +had a good deal to tell her of the day's discoveries, the state of the +range, and the condition of the cattle. To all of this she listened at +least with patience. Senor Johnson, like most men who have long +delayed marriage, was self-centred without knowing it. His interest in +his mate had to do with her personality rather than with her doings. +</P> + +<P> +"What you do with yourself all day to-day?" he occasionally inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there's lots to do," she would answer, a trifle listlessly; and +this reply always seemed quite to satisfy his interest in the subject. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson, with a curiously instant transformation often to be +observed among the adventurous, settled luxuriously into the state of +being a married man. Its smallest details gave him distinct and +separate sensations of pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"I plumb likes it all," he said. "I likes havin' interest in some fool +geranium plant, and I likes worryin' about the screen doors and all the +rest of the plumb foolishness. It does me good. It feels like +stretchin' your legs in front of a good warm fire." +</P> + +<P> +The centre, the compelling influence of this new state of affairs, was +undoubtedly Estrella, and yet it is equally to be doubted whether she +stood for more than the suggestion. Senor Johnson conducted his entire +life with reference to his wife. His waking hours were concerned only +with the thought of her, his every act revolved in its orbit controlled +by her influence. Nevertheless she, as an individual human being, had +little to do with it. Senor Johnson referred his life to a state of +affairs he had himself invented and which he called the married state, +and to a woman whose attitude he had himself determined upon and whom +he designated as his wife. The actual state of affairs—whatever it +might be—he did not see; and the actual woman supplied merely the +material medium necessary to the reality of his idea. Whether +Estrella's eyes were interested or bored, bright or dull, alert or +abstracted, contented or afraid, Senor Johnson could not have told you. +He might have replied promptly enough—that they were happy and loving. +That is the way Senor Johnson conceived a wife's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The routine of life, then, soon settled. After breakfast the Senor +insisted that his wife accompany him on a short tour of inspection. "A +little pasear," he called it, "just to get set for the day." Then his +horse was brought, and he rode away on whatever business called him. +Like a true son of the alkali, he took no lunch with him, nor expected +his horse to feed until his return. This was an hour before sunset. +The evening passed as has been described. It was all very simple. +</P> + +<P> +When the business hung close to the ranch house--as in the bronco +busting, the rebranding of bought cattle, and the like—he was able to +share his wife's day. Estrella conducted herself dreamily, with a slow +smile for him when his actual presence insisted on her attention. She +seemed much given to staring out over the desert. Senor Johnson, +appreciatively, thought he could understand this. Again, she gave much +leisure to rocking back and forth on the low, wide veranda, her hands +idle, her eyes vacant, her lips dumb. Susie O'Toole had early proved +incompatible and had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"A nice, contented, home sort of a woman," said Senor Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +One thing alone besides the deserts on which she never seemed tired of +looking, fascinated her. Whenever a beef was killed for the uses of +the ranch, she commanded strips of the green skin. Then, like a child, +she bound them and sewed them and nailed them to substances +particularly susceptible to their constricting power. She choked the +necks of green gourds, she indented the tender bark of cottonwood +shoots, she expended an apparently exhaustless ingenuity on the +fabrication of mechanical devices whose principle answered to the +pulling of the drying rawhide. And always along the adobe fence could +be seen a long row of potatoes bound in skin, some of them fresh and +smooth and round; some sweating in the agony of squeezing; some +wrinkled and dry and little, the last drops of life tortured out of +them. Senor Johnson laughed good-humouredly at these toys, puzzled to +explain their fascination for his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"They're sure an amusing enough contraption honey," said he, "but what +makes you stand out there in the hot sun staring at them that way? +It's cooler on the porch." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Estrella, helplessly, turning her slow, vacant +gaze on him. Suddenly she shivered in a strong physical revulsion. "I +don't know!" she cried with passion. +</P> + +<P> +After they had been married about a month Senor Johnson found it +necessary to drive into Willets. +</P> + +<P> +"How would you like to go, too, and buy some duds?" he asked Estrella. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she cried strangely. "When?" +</P> + +<P> +"Day after tomorrow." +</P> + +<P> +The trip decided, her entire attitude changed. The vacancy of her gaze +lifted; her movements quickened; she left off staring at the desert, +and her rawhide toys were neglected. Before starting, Senor Johnson +gave her a check book. He explained that there were no banks in +Willets, but that Goodrich, the storekeeper, would honour her signature. +</P> + +<P> +"Buy what you want to, honey," said he. "Tear her wide open. I'm good +for it." +</P> + +<P> +"How much can I draw?" she asked, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"As much as you want to," he replied with emphasis. +</P> + +<P> +"Take care"—she poised before him with the check book extended—"I may +draw—I might draw fifty thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Not out of Goodrich," he grinned; "you'd bust the game. But hold him +up for the limit, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +He chuckled aloud, pleased at the rare, bird-like coquetry of the +woman. They drove to Willets. It took them two days to go and two +days to return. Estrella went through the town in a cyclone burst of +enthusiasm, saw everything, bought everything, exhausted everything in +two hours. Willets was not a large place. On her return to the ranch +she sat down at once in the rocking-chair on the veranda. Her hands +fell into her lap. She stared out over the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson stole up behind her, clumsy as a playful bear. His eyes +followed the direction of hers to where a cloud shadow lay across the +slope, heavy, palpable, untransparent, like a blotch of ink. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty, isn't it, honey?" said he. "Glad to get back?" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled at him her vacant, slow smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's my check book," she said; "put it away for me. I'm through +with it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll put it in my desk," said he. "It's in the left-hand cubbyhole," +he called from inside. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +He stood in the doorway, looking fondly at her unconscious shoulders +and the pose of her blonde head thrown back against the high +rocking-chair. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the sort of a woman, after all," said Senor Johnson. "No blame +fuss about her." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0308"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER EIGHT +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ROUND-UP +</H3> + +<P> +This, as you well may gather, was in the summer routine. Now the time +of the great fall round-up drew near. The home ranch began to bustle +in preparation. +</P> + +<P> +All through Cochise County were short mountain ranges set down, +apparently at random, like a child's blocks. In and out between them +flowed the broad, plain-like valleys. On the valleys were the various +ranges, great or small, controlled by the different individuals of the +Cattlemen's Association. During the year an unimportant, but certain, +shifting of stock took place. A few cattle of Senor Johnson's Lazy Y +eluded the vigilance of his riders to drift over through the Grant Pass +and into the ranges of his neighbour; equally, many of the neighbour's +steers watered daily at Senor Johnson's troughs. It was a matter of +courtesy to permit this, but one of the reasons for the fall round-up +was a redistribution to the proper ranges. Each cattle-owner sent an +outfit to the scene of labour. The combined outfits moved slowly from +one valley to another, cutting out the strays, branding the late +calves, collecting for the owner of that particular range all his +stock, that he might select his marketable beef. In turn each +cattleman was host to his neighbours and their men. +</P> + +<P> +This year it had been decided to begin the circle of the round-up at +the C 0 Bar, near the banks of the San Pedro. Thence it would work +eastward, wandering slowly in north and south deviation, to include all +the country, until the final break-up would occur at the Lazy Y. +</P> + +<P> +The Lazy Y crew was to consist of four men, thirty riding horses, a +"chuck wagon," and cook. These, helping others, and receiving help in +turn, would suffice, for in the round-up labour was pooled to a common +end. With them would ride Jed Parker, to safeguard his master's +interests. +</P> + +<P> +For a week the punchers, in their daily rides, gathered in the range +ponies. Senor Johnson owned fifty horses which he maintained at the +home ranch for every-day riding, two hundred broken saddle animals, +allowed the freedom of the range, except when special occasion demanded +their use, and perhaps half a thousand quite unbroken—brood mares, +stallions, young horses, broncos, and the like. At this time of year +it was his habit to corral all those saddlewise in order to select +horses for the round-ups and to replace the ranch animals. The latter +he turned loose for their turn at the freedom of the range. +</P> + +<P> +The horses chosen, next the men turned their attention to outfit. Each +had, of course, his saddle, spurs, and "rope." Of the latter the chuck +wagon carried many extra. That vehicle, furthermore, transported such +articles as the blankets, the tarpaulins under which to sleep, the +running irons for branding, the cooking layout, and the men's personal +effects. All was in readiness to move for the six weeks' circle, when +a complication arose. Jed Parker, while nimbly escaping an irritated +steer, twisted the high heel of his boot on the corral fence. He +insisted the injury amounted to nothing. Senor Johnson however, +disagreed. +</P> + +<P> +"It don't amount to nothing, Jed," he pronounced, after manipulation, +"but she might make a good able-bodied injury with a little coaxing. +Rest her a week and then you'll be all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Rest her, the devil!" growled Jed; "who's going to San Pedro?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will, of course," replied the Senor promptly. "Didje think we'd send +the Chink?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was first cousin to a Yaqui jackass for sendin' young Billy Ellis +out. He'll be back in a week. He'd do." +</P> + +<P> +"So'd the President," the Senor pointed out; "I hear he's had some +experience." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to have you to go," objected Jed. "There's the missis." He +shot a glance sideways at his chief. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess she and I can stand it for a week," scoffed the latter. "Why, +we are old married folks by now. Besides, you can take care of her." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try," said Jed Parker, a little grimly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0309"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER NINE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LONG TRAIL +</H3> + +<P> +The round-up crew started early the next morning, just about sun-up. +Senor Johnson rode first, merely to keep out of the dust. Then +followed Torn Rich, jogging along easily in the cow-puncher's "Spanish +trot" whistling soothingly to quiet the horses, giving a lead to the +band of saddle animals strung out loosely behind him. These moved on +gracefully and lightly in the manner of the unburdened plains horse, +half decided to follow Tom's guidance, half inclined to break to right +or left. Homer and Jim Lester flanked them, also riding in a slouch of +apparent laziness, but every once in a while darting forward like +bullets to turn back into the main herd certain individuals whom the +early morning of the unwearied day had inspired to make a dash for +liberty. The rear was brought up by Jerky Jones, the fourth +cow-puncher, and the four-mule chuck wagon, lost in its own dust. +</P> + +<P> +The sun mounted; the desert went silently through its changes. Wind +devils raised straight, true columns of dust six, eight hundred, even a +thousand feet into the air. The billows of dust from the horses and +men crept and crawled with them like a living creature. Glorious +colour, magnificent distance, astonishing illusion, filled the world. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson rode ahead, looking at these things. The separation from +his wife, brief as it would be, left room in his soul for the +heart-hunger which beauty arouses in men. He loved the charm of the +desert, yet it hurt him. +</P> + +<P> +Behind him the punchers relieved the tedium of the march, each after +his own manner. In an hour the bunch of loose horses lost its +early-morning good spirits and settled down to a steady plodding, that +needed no supervision. Tom Rich led them, now, in silence, his time +fully occupied in rolling Mexican cigarettes with one hand. The other +three dropped back together and exchanged desultory remarks. +Occasionally Jim Lester sang. It was always the same song of uncounted +verses, but Jim had a strange fashion of singing a single verse at a +time. After a long interval he would sing another. +</P> + +<P> +"My Love is a rider<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">And broncos he breaks,</SPAN><BR> +But he's given up riding<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">And all for my sake,</SPAN><BR> +For he found him a horse<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">And it suited him so</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">That he vowed he'd ne'er ride</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">Any other bronco!"</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +he warbled, and then in the same breath: +</P> + +<P> +"Say, boys, did you get onto the pisano-looking shorthorn at Willets +last week? +</P> + +<P> +"Nope." +</P> + +<P> +"He sifted in wearin' one of these hardboiled hats, and carryin' a +brogue thick enough to skate on. Says he wants a job drivin' +team—that he drives a truck plenty back to St. Louis, where he comes +from. Goodrich sets him behind them little pinto cavallos he has. +Say! that son of a gun a driver! He couldn't drive nails in a snow +bank." An expressive free-hand gesture told all there was to tell of +the runaway. "Th' shorthorn landed headfirst in Goldfish Charlie's +horse trough. Charlie fishes him out. 'How the devil, stranger,' says +Charlie, 'did you come to fall in here?' 'You blamed fool,' says the +shorthorn, just cryin' mad, 'I didn't come to fall in here, I come to +drive horses.'" +</P> + +<P> +And then, without a transitory pause: +</P> + +<P> +Oh, my love has a gun<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">And that gun he can use,</SPAN><BR> +ut he's quit his gun fighting<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">As well as his booze.</SPAN><BR> +nd he's sold him his saddle,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">His spurs, and his rope,</SPAN><BR> +nd there's no more cow-punching<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">And that's what I hope."</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +The alkali dust, swirled back by a little breeze, billowed up and +choked him. Behind, the mules coughed, their coats whitening with the +powder. Far ahead in the distance lay the westerly mountains. They +looked an hour away, and yet every man and beast in the outfit knew +that hour after hour they were doomed, by the enchantment of the land, +to plod ahead without apparently getting an inch nearer. The only +salvation was to forget the mountains and to fill the present moment +full of little things. +</P> + +<P> +But Senor Johnson, to-day, found himself unable to do this. In spite +of his best efforts he caught himself straining toward the distant +goal, becoming impatient, trying to measure progress by landmarks—in +short acting like a tenderfoot on the desert, who wears himself down +and dies, not from the hardship, but from the nervous strain which he +does not know how to avoid. Senor Johnson knew this as well as you and +I. He cursed himself vigorously, and began with great resolution to +think of something else. +</P> + +<P> +He was aroused from this by Tom Rich, riding alongside. "Somebody +coming, Senor," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson raised his eyes to the approaching cloud of dust. +Silently the two watched it until it resolved into a rider loping +easily along. In fifteen minutes he drew rein, his pony dropped +immediately from a gallop to immobility, he swung into a graceful +at-ease attitude across his saddle, grinned amiably, and began to roll +a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Billy Ellis," cried Rich. +</P> + +<P> +"That's me," replied the newcomer. +</P> + +<P> +"Thought you were down to Tucson?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was." +</P> + +<P> +"Thought you wasn't comin' back for a week yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tommy," proffered Billy Ellis dreamily, "when you go to Tucson next +you watch out until you sees a little, squint-eyed Britisher. Take a +look at him. Then come away. He says he don't know nothin' about +poker. Mebbe he don't, but he'll outhold a warehouse." +</P> + +<P> +But here Senor Johnson broke in: "Billy, you're just in time. Jed has +hurt his foot and can't get on for a week yet. I want you to take +charge. I've got a lot to do at the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't got my war-bag," objected Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Take my stuff. I'll send yours on when Parker goes." +</P> + +<P> +"All right." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, so long." +</P> + +<P> +"So long, Senor." They moved. The erratic Arizona breezes twisted the +dust of their going. Senor Johnson watched them dwindle. With them +seemed to go the joy in the old life. No longer did the long trail +possess for him its ancient fascination. He had become a domestic man. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm glad of it," commented Senor Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +The dust eddied aside. Plainly could be seen the swaying wagon, the +loose-riding cowboys, the gleaming, naked backs of the herd. Then the +veil closed over them again. But down the wind, faintly, in snatches, +came the words of Jim Lester's song: +</P> + +<P> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">"Oh, Sam has a gun</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">That has gone to the bad,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">Which makes poor old Sammy</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">Feel pretty, damn sad,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">For that gun it shoots high,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">And that gun it shoots low,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">And it wabbles about</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1.5em">Like a bucking bronco!"</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson turned and struck spurs to his willing pony. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0310"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DISCOVERY +</H3> + +<P> +Senor Buck Johnson loped quickly back toward the home ranch, his heart +glad at this fortunate solution of his annoyance. The home ranch lay +in plain sight not ten miles away. As Senor Johnson idly watched it +shimmering in the heat, a tiny figure detached itself from the mass and +launched itself in his direction. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder what's eating HIM!" marvelled Senor Johnson, "—and who is it?" +</P> + +<P> +The figure drew steadily nearer. In half an hour it had approached +near enough to be recognised. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's Jed!" cried the Senor, and spurred his horse. "What do you +mean, riding out with that foot?" he demanded sternly, when within +hailing distance. +</P> + +<P> +"Foot, hell!" gasped Parker, whirling his horse alongside. "Your +wife's run away with Brent Palmer." +</P> + +<P> +For fully ten seconds not the faintest indication proved that the +husband had heard, except that he lifted his bridle-hand, and the +well-trained pony stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say?" he asked finally. +</P> + +<P> +"Your wife's run away with Brent Palmer," repeated Jed, almost with +impatience. +</P> + +<P> +Again the long pause. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" asked Senor Johnson, then. +</P> + +<P> +"Know, hell! It's been going on for a month. Sang saw them drive off. +They took the buckboard. He heard 'em planning it. He was too scairt +to tell till they'd gone. I just found it out. They've been gone two +hours. Must be going to make the Limited." Parker fidgeted, impatient +to be off. "You're wasting time," he snapped at the motionless figure. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Johnson's face flamed. He reached from his saddle to clutch +Jed's shoulder, nearly pulling the foreman from his pony. +</P> + +<P> +"You lie!" he cried. "You're lying to me! It ain't SO!" +</P> + +<P> +Parker made no effort to extricate himself from the painful grasp. His +cool eyes met the blazing eyes of his chief. +</P> + +<P> +"I wisht I did lie, Buck," he said sadly. "I wisht it wasn't so. But +it is." +</P> + +<P> +Johnson's head snapped back to the front with a groan. The pony +snorted as the steel bit his flanks, leaped forward, and with head +outstretched, nostrils wide, the wicked white of the bronco flickering +in the corner of his eye, struck the bee line for the home ranch. Jed +followed as fast as he was able. +</P> + +<P> +On his arrival he found his chief raging about the house like a wild +beast. Sang trembled from a quick and stormy interrogatory in the +kitchen. Chairs had been upset and let lie. Estrella's belongings had +been tumbled over. Senor Johnson there found only too sure proof, in +the various lacks, of a premeditated and permanent flight. Still he +hoped; and as long as he hoped, he doubted, and the demons of doubt +tore him to a frenzy. Jed stood near the door, his arms folded, his +weight shifted to his sound foot, waiting and wondering what the next +move was to be. +</P> + +<P> +Finally, Senor Johnson, struck with a new idea, ran to his desk to +rummage in a pigeon-hole. But he found no need to do so, for lying on +the desk was what he sought—the check book from which Estrella was to +draw on Goodrich for the money she might need. He fairly snatched it +open. Two of the checks had been torn out, stub and all. And then his +eye caught a crumpled bit of blue paper under the edge of the desk. +</P> + +<P> +He smoothed it out. The check was made out to bearer and signed +Estrella Johnson. It called for fifteen thousand dollars. Across the +middle was a great ink blot, reason for its rejection. +</P> + +<P> +At once Senor Johnson became singularly and dangerously cool. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon you're right, Jed," he cried in his natural voice. "She's +gone with him. She's got all her traps with her, and she's drawn on +Goodrich for fifteen thousand. And SHE never thought of going just +this time of month when the miners are in with their dust, and Goodrich +would be sure to have that much. That's friend Palmer. Been going on +a month, you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't say anything, Buck," said Parker anxiously. "A man's never +sure enough about them things till afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," agreed Buck Johnson; "give me a light for my cigarette." +</P> + +<P> +He puffed for a moment, then rose, stretching his legs. In a moment he +returned from the other room, the old shiny Colt's forty-five strapped +loosely on his hip. Jed looked him in the face with some anxiety. The +foreman was not deceived by the man's easy manner; in fact, he knew it +to be symptomatic of one of the dangerous phases of Senor Johnson's +character. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up, Buck?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Just going out for a pasear with the little horse, Jed." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I better come along?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not with your lame foot, Jed." +</P> + +<P> +The tone of voice was conclusive. Jed cleared his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"She left this for you," said he, proffering an envelope. "Them kind +always writes." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," agreed Senor Johnson, stuffing the letter carelessly into his +side pocket. He half drew the Colt's from its holster and slipped it +back again. "Makes you feel plumb like a man to have one of these +things rubbin' against you again," he observed irrelevantly. Then he +went out, leaving the foreman leaning, chair tilted, against the wall. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0311"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ELEVEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CAPTURE +</H3> + +<P> +Although he had left the room so suddenly, Senor Johnson did not at +once open the gate of the adobe wall. His demeanour was gay, for he +was a Westerner, but his heart was black. Hardly did he see beyond the +convexity of his eyeballs. +</P> + +<P> +The pony, warmed up by its little run, pawed the ground, impatient to +be off. It was a fine animal, clean-built, deep-chested, one of the +mustang stock descended from the Arabs brought over by Pizarro. Sang +watched fearfully from the slant of the kitchen window. Jed Parker, +even, listened for the beat of the horse's hoofs. +</P> + +<P> +But Senor Johnson stood stock-still, his brain absolutely numb and +empty. His hand brushed against something which fell, to the ground. +He brought his dull gaze to bear on it. The object proved to be a +black, wrinkled spheroid, baked hard as iron in the sunshine of +Estrella's toys, a potato squeezed to dryness by the constricting power +of the rawhide. In a row along the fence were others. To Senor +Johnson it seemed that thus his heart was being squeezed in the fire of +suffering. +</P> + +<P> +But the slight movement of the falling object roused him. He swung +open the gate. The pony bowed his head delightedly. He was not tired, +but his reins depended straight to the ground, and it was a point of +honour with him to stand. At the saddle horn, in its sling, hung the +riata, the "rope" without which no cowman ever stirs abroad, but which +Senor Johnson had rarely used of late. Senor Johnson threw the reins +over, seized the pony's mane in his left hand, held the pommel with his +right, and so swung easily aboard, the pony's jump helping him to the +saddle. Wheel tracks led down the trail. He followed them. +</P> + +<P> +Truth to tell, Senor Johnson had very little idea of what he was going +to do. His action was entirely instinctive. The wheel tracks held to +the southwest so he held to the southwest, too. +</P> + +<P> +The pony hit his stride. The miles slipped by. After seven of them +the animal slowed to a walk. Senor Johnson allowed him to get his +wind, then spurred him on again. He did not even take the ordinary +precautions of a pursuer. He did not even glance to the horizon in +search. +</P> + +<P> +About supper-time he came to the first ranch house. There he took a +bite to eat and exchanged his horse for another, a favourite of his, +named Button. The two men asked no questions. +</P> + +<P> +"See Mrs. Johnson go through?" asked the Senor from the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, about three o'clock. Brent Palmer driving her. Bound for +Willets to visit the preacher's wife, she said. Ought to catch up at +the Circle I. That's where they'd all spend the night, of course. So +long." +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson knew now the couple would follow the straight road. They +would fear no pursuit. He himself was supposed not to return for a +week, and the story of visiting the minister's wife was not only +plausible, it was natural. Jed had upset calculations, because Jed was +shrewd, and had eyes in his head. Buck Johnson's first mental numbness +was wearing away; he was beginning to think. +</P> + +<P> +The night was very still and very dark, the stars very bright in their +candle-like glow. The man, loping steadily on through the darkness, +recalled that other night, equally still, equally dark, equally starry, +when he had driven out from his accustomed life into the unknown with a +woman by his side, the sight of whom asleep had made him feel "almost +holy." He uttered a short laugh. +</P> + +<P> +The pony was a good one, well equal to twice the distance he would be +called upon to cover this night. Senor Johnson managed him well. By +long experience and a natural instinct he knew just how hard to push +his mount, just how to keep inside the point where too rapid exhaustion +of vitality begins. +</P> + +<P> +Toward the hour of sunrise he drew rein to look about him. The desert, +till now wrapped in the thousand little noises that make night silence, +drew breath in preparation for the awe of the daily wonder. It lay +across the world heavy as a sea of lead, and as lifeless; deeply +unconscious, like an exhausted sleeper. The sky bent above, the stars +paling. Far away the mountains seemed to wait. And then, +imperceptibly, those in the east became blacker and sharper, while +those in the west became faintly lucent and lost the distinctness of +their outline. The change was nothing, yet everything. And suddenly a +desert bird sprang into the air and began to sing. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson caught the wonder of it. The wonder of it seemed to him +wasted, useless, cruel in its effect. He sighed impatiently, and drew +his hand across his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The desert became grey with the first light before the glory. In the +illusory revealment of it Senor Johnson's sharp frontiersman's eyes +made out an object moving away from him in the middle distance. In a +moment the object rose for a second against the sky line, then +disappeared. He knew it to be the buckboard, and that the vehicle had +just plunged into the dry bed of an arroyo. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately life surged through him like an electric shock. He +unfastened the riata from its sling, shook loose the noose, and moved +forward in the direction in which he had last seen the buckboard. +</P> + +<P> +At the top of the steep little bank he stopped behind the mesquite, +straining his eyes; luck had been good to him. The buckboard had +pulled up, and Brent Palmer was at the moment beginning a little fire, +evidently to make the morning coffee. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson struck spurs to his horse and half slid, half fell, +clattering, down the steep clay bank almost on top of the couple below. +</P> + +<P> +Estrella screamed. Brent Palmer jerked out an oath, and reached for +his gun. The loop of the riata fell wide over him, immediately to be +jerked tight, binding his arms tight to his side. +</P> + +<P> +The bronco-buster, swept from his feet by the pony's rapid turn, +nevertheless struggled desperately to wrench himself loose. Button, +intelligent at all rope work, walked steadily backward, step by step, +taking up the slack, keeping the rope tight as he had done hundreds of +times before when a steer had struggled as this man was struggling now. +His master leaped from the saddle and ran forward. Button continued to +walk slowly back. The riata remained taut. The noose held. +</P> + +<P> +Brent Palmer fought savagely, even then. He kicked, he rolled over and +over, he wrenched violently at his pinioned arms, he twisted his +powerful young body from Senor Johnson's grasp again and again. But it +was no use. In less than a minute he was bound hard and fast. Button +promptly slackened the rope. The dust settled. The noise of the +combat died. Again could be heard the single desert bird singing +against the dawn. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0312"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWELVE +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE ARROYO +</H3> + +<P> +Senor Johnson quietly approached Estrella. The girl had, during the +struggle, gone through an aimless but frantic exhibition of terror. +Now she shrank back, her eyes staring wildly, her hands behind her, +ready to flop again over the brink of hysteria. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" she demanded, her voice unnatural. +</P> + +<P> +She received no reply. The man reached out and took her by the arm. +</P> + +<P> +And then at once, as though the personal contact of the touch had +broken through the last crumb of numbness with which shock had overlaid +Buck Johnson's passions, the insanity of his rage broke out. He +twisted her violently on her face, knelt on her back, and, with the +short piece of hard rope the cowboy always carries to "hog-tie" cattle, +he lashed her wrists together. Then he arose panting, his square black +beard rising and falling with the rise and fall of his great chest. +</P> + +<P> +Estrella had screamed again and again until her face had been fairly +ground into the alkali. There she had choked and strangled and gasped +and sobbed, her mind nearly unhinged with terror. She kept appealing +to him in a hoarse voice, but could get no reply, no indication that he +had even heard. This terrified her still more. Brent Palmer cursed +steadily and accurately, but the man did not seem to hear him either. +</P> + +<P> +The tempest bad broken in Buck Johnson's soul. When he had touched +Estrella he had, for the first time, realised what he had lost. It was +not the woman—her he despised. But the dreams! All at once he knew +what they had been to him—he understood how completely the very +substance of his life had changed in response to their slow +soul-action. The new world had been blasted—the old no longer existed +to which to return. +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson stared at this catastrophe until his sight blurred. Why, +it was atrocious! He had done nothing to deserve it! Why had they not +left him peaceful in his own life of cattle and the trail? He had been +happy. His dull eyes fell on the causes of the ruin. +</P> + +<P> +And then, finally, in the understanding of how he had been tricked of +his life, his happiness, his right to well-being, the whole force of +the man's anger flared. Brent Palmer lay there cursing him +artistically. That man had done it; that man was in his power. He +would get even. How? +</P> + +<P> +Estrella, too, lay huddled, helpless and defenseless, at his feet. She +had done it. He would get even. How? +</P> + +<P> +He had spoken no word. He spoke none now, either in answer to +Estrella's appeals, becoming piteous in their craving for relief from +suspense, or in response to Brent Palmer's steady stream of insults and +vituperations. Such things were far below. The bitterness and anger +and desolation were squeezing his heart. He remembered the silly +little row of potatoes sewn in the green hide lying along the top of +the adobe fence, some fresh and round, some dripping as the rawhide +contracted, some black and withered and very small. A fierce and +savage light sprang into his eyes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0313"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RAWHIDE +</H3> + +<P> +First of all he unhitched the horses from the buckboard and turned them +loose. Then, since he was early trained in Indian warfare, he dragged +Palmer to the wagon wheel, and tied him so closely to it that he could +not roll over. For, though the bronco-buster was already so fettered +that his only possible movement was of the jack-knife variety, +nevertheless he might be able to hitch himself along the ground to a +sharp stone, there to saw through the rope about his wrists. Estrella, +her husband held in contempt. He merely supplemented her wrist bands +by one about the ankles. +</P> + +<P> +Leisurely he mounted Button and turned up the wagon trail, leaving the +two. Estrella had exhausted herself. She was capable of nothing more +in the way of emotion. Her eyes tight closed, she inhaled in deep, +trembling, long-drawn breaths, and exhaled with the name of her Maker. +</P> + +<P> +Brent Palmer, on the contrary, was by no means subdued. He had +expected to be shot in cold blood. Now he did not know what to +anticipate. His black, level brows drawn straight in defiance, he +threw his curses after Johnson's retreating figure. +</P> + +<P> +The latter, however, paid no attention. He had his purposes. Once at +the top of the arroyo he took a careful survey of the landscape, now +rich with dawn. Each excrescence on the plain his half-squinted eyes +noticed, and with instant skill relegated to its proper category of +soap-weed, mesquite, cactus. At length he swung Button in an easy lope +toward what looked to be a bunch of soap-weed in the middle distance. +</P> + +<P> +But in a moment the cattle could be seen plainly. Button pricked up +his ears. He knew cattle. Now he proceeded tentatively, lifting high +his little hoofs to avoid the half-seen inequalities of the ground and +the ground's growths, wondering whether he were to be called on to rope +or to drive. When the rider had approached to within a hundred feet, +the cattle started. Immediately Button understood that he was to +pursue. No rope swung above his head, so he sheered off and ran as +fast as he could to cut ahead of the bunch. But his rider with knee +and rein forced him in. After a moment, to his astonishment, he found +himself running alongside a big steer. Button had never hunted +buffalo—Buck Johnson had. +</P> + +<P> +The Colt's forty-five barked once, and then again. The steer staggered, +fell to his knees, recovered, and finally stopped, the blood streaming +from his nostrils. In a moment he fell heavily on his side—dead. +</P> + +<P> +Senor Johnson at once dismounted and began methodically to skin the +animal. This was not easy for he had no way of suspending the carcass +nor of rolling it from side to side. However, he was practised at it +and did a neat job. Two or three times he even caught himself taking +extra pains that the thin flesh strips should not adhere to the inside +of the pelt. Then he smiled grimly, and ripped it loose. +</P> + +<P> +After the hide had been removed he cut from the edge, around and +around, a long, narrow strip. With this he bound the whole into a +compact bundle, strapped it on behind his saddle, and remounted. He +returned to the arroyo. +</P> + +<P> +Estrella still lay with her eyes closed. Brent Palmer looked up +keenly. The bronco-buster saw the green hide. A puzzled expression +crept across his face. +</P> + +<P> +Roughly Johnson loosed his enemy from the wheel and dragged him to the +woman. He passed the free end of the riata about them both, tying them +close together. The girl continued to moan, out of her wits with +terror. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do now, you devil?" demanded Palmer, but +received no reply. +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson spread out the rawhide. Putting forth his huge strength, +he carried to it the pair, bound together like a bale of goods, and +laid them on its cool surface. He threw across them the edges, and +then deliberately began to wind around and around the huge and unwieldy +rawhide package the strip he had cut from the edge of the pelt. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was this altogether easy. At last Brent Palmer understood. He +writhed in the struggle of desperation, foaming blasphemies. The +uncouth bundle rolled here and there. But inexorably the other, from +the advantage of his position, drew the thongs tighter. +</P> + +<P> +And then, all at once, from vituperation the bronco-buster fell to +pleading, not for life, but for death. +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake, shoot me!" he cried from within the smothering folds +of the rawhide. "If you ever had a heart in you, shoot me! Don't +leave me here to be crushed in this vise. You wouldn't do that to a +yellow dog. An Injin wouldn't do that, Buck. It's a joke, isn't it? +Don't go away and leave me, Buck. I've done you dirt. Cut my heart +out, if you want to; I won't say a word, but don't leave me here for +the sun—" +</P> + +<P> +is voice was drowned in a piercing scream, as Estrella came to<BR> +herself and understood. Always the rawhide had possessed for her an +occult fascination and repulsion. She had never been able to touch it +without a shudder, and yet she had always been drawn to experiment with +it. The terror of her doom had now added to it for her all the vague +and premonitory terrors which heretofore she had not understood. +</P> + +<P> +The richness of the dawn had flowed to the west. Day was at hand. +Breezes had begun to play across the desert; the wind devils to raise +their straight columns. A first long shaft of sunlight shot through a +pass in the Chiricahuas, trembled in the dust-moted air, and laid its +warmth on the rawhide. Senor Johnson roused himself from his gloom to +speak his first words of the episode. +</P> + +<P> +"There, damn you!" said he. "I guess you'll be close enough together +now!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned away to look for his horse. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap0314"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOURTEEN +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DESERT +</H3> + +<P> +Button was a trusty of Senor Johnson's private animals. He was never +known to leave his master in the lurch, and so was habitually allowed +certain privileges. Now, instead of remaining exactly on the spot +where he was "tied to the ground," he had wandered out of the dry +arroyo bed to the upper level of the plains, where he knew certain +bunch grasses might be found. Buck Johnson climbed the steep wooded +bank in search of him. +</P> + +<P> +The pony stood not ten feet distant. At his master's abrupt appearance +he merely raised his head, a wisp of grass in the corner of his mouth, +without attempting to move away. Buck Johnson walked confidently to +him, fumbling in his side pocket for the piece of sugar with which he +habitually soothed Button's sophisticated palate. His hand encountered +Estrella's letter. He drew it out and opened it. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Buck," it read, "I am going away. I tried to be good, but I +can't. It's too lonesome for me. I'm afraid of the horses and the +cattle and the men and the desert. I hate it all. I tried to make you +see how I felt about it, but you couldn't seem to see. I know you'll +never forgive me, but I'd go crazy here. I'm almost crazy now. I +suppose you think I'm a bad woman, but I am not. You won't believe +that. Its' true though. The desert would make anyone bad. I don't +see how you stand it. You've been good to me, and I've really tried, +but it's no use. The country is awful. I never ought to have come. +I'm sorry you are going to think me a bad woman, for I like you and +admire you, but nothing, NOTHING could make me stay here any longer." +She signed herself simply Estrella Sands, her maiden name. +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson stood staring at the paper for a much longer time than was +necessary merely to absorb the meaning of the words. His senses, +sharpened by the stress of the last sixteen hours, were trying mightily +to cut to the mystery of a change going on within himself. The phrases +of the letter were bald enough, yet they conveyed something vital to +his inner being. He could not understand what it was. +</P> + +<P> +Then abruptly he raised his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Before him lay the desert, but a desert suddenly and miraculously +changed, a desert he had never seen before. Mile after mile it swept +away before him, hot, dry, suffocating, lifeless. The sparse +vegetation was grey with the alkali dust. The heat hung choking in the +air like a curtain. Lizards sprawled in the sun, repulsive. A +rattlesnake dragged its loathsome length from under a mesquite. The +dried carcass of a steer, whose parchment skin drew tight across its +bones, rattled in the breeze. Here and there rock ridges showed with +the obscenity of so many skeletons, exposing to the hard, cruel sky the +earth's nakedness. Thirst, delirium, death, hovered palpable in the +wind; dreadful, unconquerable, ghastly. +</P> + +<P> +The desert showed her teeth and lay in wait like a fierce beast. The +little soul of man shrank in terror before it. +</P> + +<P> +Buck Johnson stared, recalling the phrases of the letter, recalling the +words of his foreman, Jed Parker. "It's too lonesome for me," "I'm +afraid," "I hate it all," "I'd go crazy here," "The desert would +make anyone bad," "The country is awful." And the musing voice of the +old cattleman, "I wonder if she'll like the country!" They reiterated +themselves over and over; and always as refrain his own confident +reply, "Like the country? Sure! Why SHOULDN'T she?" +</P> + +<P> +And then he recalled the summer just passing, and the woman who had +made no fuss. Chance remarks of hers came back to him, remarks whose +meaning he had not at the time grasped, but which now he saw were +desperate appeals to his understanding. He had known his desert. He +had never known hers. +</P> + +<P> +With an exclamation Buck Johnson turned abruptly back to the arroyo. +Button followed him, mildly curious, certain that his master's +reappearance meant a summons for himself. +</P> + +<P> +Down the miniature cliff the man slid, confidently, without hesitation, +sure of himself. His shoulders held squarely, his step elastic, his +eye bright, he walked to the fearful, shapeless bundle now lying +motionless on the flat surface of the alkali. +</P> + +<P> +Brent Palmer had fallen into a grim silence, but Estrella still moaned. +The cattleman drew his knife and ripped loose the bonds. Immediately +the flaps of the wet rawhide fell apart, exposing to the new daylight +the two bound together. Buck Johnson leaned over to touch the woman's +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Estrella," said he gently. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes came open with a snap, and stared into his, wild with the +surprise of his return. +</P> + +<P> +"Estrella," he repeated, "how old are you?" +</P> + +<P> +She gulped down a sob, unable to comprehend the purport of his question. +</P> + +<P> +"How old are you, Estrella?" he repeated again. +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty-one," she gasped finally. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" said he. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a moment in deep thought, then began methodically, without +haste, to cut loose the thongs that bound the two together. +</P> + +<P> +When the man and the woman were quite freed, he stood for a moment, the +knife in his hand, looking down on them. Then he swung himself into +the saddle and rode away, straight down the narrow arroyo, out beyond +its lower widening, into the vast plains the hither side of the +Chiricahuas. The alkali dust was snatched by the wind from beneath his +horse's feet. Smaller and smaller he dwindled, rising and falling, +rising and falling in the monotonous cow-pony's lope. The heat shimmer +veiled him for a moment, but he reappeared. A mirage concealed him, +but he emerged on the other side of it. Then suddenly he was gone. +The desert had swallowed him up. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Arizona Nights, by Stewart Edward White + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARIZONA NIGHTS *** + +***** This file should be named 753-h.htm or 753-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/5/753/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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