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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bat Wing Bowles, by Dane Coolidge
+
+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: Bat Wing Bowles
+
+Author: Dane Coolidge
+
+Illustrator: D Hutchison
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36134]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAT WING BOWLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Louise Setzer, Mary Meehan and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            BAT WING BOWLES
+
+                            BY DANE COOLIDGE
+
+               AUTHOR OF "HIDDEN WATER" AND "THE TEXICAN"
+
+                     Illustrated by D. C. Hutchison
+
+
+    NEW YORK
+    FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
+    PUBLISHERS
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
+    FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
+    STREET & SMITH, NEW YORK
+
+    _All rights reserved, including that of translation
+    into foreign languages_
+
+    _March, 1914_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'WHY, HELLO THERE, COWBOY!' SHE CHALLENGED BLUNTLY"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I MR. BOWLES
+
+II THE FAR WEST
+
+III THE BAT WING RANCH
+
+IV BRIGHAM
+
+V WA-HA-LOTE
+
+VI THE ROUND-UP
+
+VII THE QUEEN AT HOME
+
+VIII A COWBOY'S LIFE
+
+IX REDUCED TO THE RANKS
+
+X THE FIRST SMILE
+
+XI CONEY ISLAND
+
+XII PROMOTED
+
+XIII A LETTER FROM THE POSTMISTRESS
+
+XIV THE ENGLISH LORD
+
+XV BURYING THE HATCHET
+
+XVI THE STRAW-BOSS
+
+XVII AND HIS SQUIRREL STORY
+
+XVIII THE ROUGH-RIDERS
+
+XIX A COMMON BRAWL
+
+XX THE DEATH OF HAPPY JACK
+
+XXI A CALL
+
+XXII THE HORSE THAT KILLED DUNBAR
+
+XXIII THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+"'Why, hello there, cowboy!' she challenged bluntly"
+
+"Only Bowles, the man from the East, rose and took off his hat"
+
+"'You want to be careful how you treat these Arizona girls!'"
+
+"The man-killer charged at him through the dust"
+
+
+
+
+BAT WING BOWLES
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+MR. BOWLES
+
+
+It was a fine windy morning in March and Dixie Lee, of Chula Vista,
+Arizona, was leaving staid New York at the gate marked "Western
+Limited." A slight difference with the gatekeeper, who seemed to doubt
+every word she said, cast no cloud upon her spirits, and she was
+cheerfully searching for her ticket when a gentleman came up from
+behind. At sight of the trim figure at the wicket, he too became
+suddenly happy, and it looked as if the effete East was losing two of
+its merriest citizens.
+
+"Oh, good-morning, Miss Lee!" he said, bowing and smiling radiantly as
+she glanced in his direction. "Are you going out on this train?"
+
+"Why--yes," she replied, gazing into her handbag with a preoccupied
+frown. "That is, if I can find my ticket!"
+
+She found it on the instant, but the frown did not depart. She had
+forgotten the young man's name. It was queer how those New York names
+slipped her memory--but she remembered his face distinctly. She had met
+him at some highbrow affair--it was a reception or some such social
+maelstrom--and, yes, his name was Bowles!
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mr. Bowles," she exclaimed as he gallantly took her bag;
+but a furtive glance at his face left her suddenly transfixed with
+doubts. Not that his expression changed--far from that--but a fleeting
+twinkle in his eyes suggested some hidden joke.
+
+"Oh, isn't your name Bowles?" she stammered. "I met you at the
+Wordsworth Club, you know, and----"
+
+"Oh, yes--quite right!" he assured her politely. "You have a wonderful
+memory for names, Miss Lee. Shall we go on down to your car?"
+
+Dixie Lee regarded the young man questioningly and with a certain
+Western disfavor. He was one of those trim and proper creatures that
+seemed to haunt Wordsworth societies, welfare meetings, and other
+culture areas known only to the cognoscente and stern-eyed Eastern
+aunts. In fact, he seemed to personify all those qualities of breeding
+and education which a long winter of compulsory "finishing" had taught
+her to despise; and yet--well, if it were not for his clothes and
+manners and the way he dropped his "r's" he might almost pass for human.
+But she knew his name wasn't Bowles.
+
+There had been a person there by the name of Bowles, but the hostess had
+mumbled when she presented this one--and they had talked quite a little,
+too. She glanced at him again and a question trembled on her lips; but
+names were nothing out where she came from, and she let it go for
+Bowles.
+
+The hypothetical Mr. Bowles was a tall and slender young man, of a type
+that ordinarily maddened her beyond all reason and prompted her to say
+cruel things which she was never sorry for afterward. He had a clear
+complexion, a Cupid's bow mouth, and eyes as innocent as a girl's. They
+were of a deep violet hue, very soft and soulful, and had a truly
+cultured way of changing--when he talked--to mirror a thousand shades of
+interest, courtesy and concern; but the way they had flickered when he
+took over the name of Bowles suggested a real man behind the veil. His
+manners, of course, were irreproachable; and not even a haberdasher
+could take exception to his clothes. He was, in fact, attired strictly
+according to the mode, in a close-fitting suit of striped gray, with
+four-inch cuffs above his box-toed shoes, narrow shoulders, and a
+low-crowned derby hat, now all the rage but affected for many years only
+by Dutch comedians.
+
+When he removed this hat, which he did whenever he stood in her
+presence, he revealed a very fine head of hair which had been brushed
+straight back from his forehead until each strand knew its separate
+place; and yet, far from being pleased at this final evidence of
+conscientious endeavor, Dixie May received him almost with a sniff.
+
+"And are you really on your way to Arizona, Miss Lee?" he inquired,
+carefully leaving the "r" out of "are" and putting the English on
+"really." "Why, how fortunate! I am going West myself! Perhaps we can
+renew our acquaintance on the way. Those were jolly stories you were
+telling me at the Wordsworth Club--very improperly, to be sure, but all
+the more interesting on that account. About the round-up cook, you know,
+and the man who couldn't say 'No.' Nothing like that in California, I
+suppose. I'm off for Los Angeles, myself."
+
+"All right," answered Dixie Lee, waving California airily aside;
+"Arizona is good enough for me! Say, I'm going to ask this man where my
+section is."
+
+She fished out her Pullman ticket and showed it to a waiting porter, who
+motioned her down the train.
+
+"The fourth car, lady," he said. "Car Number Four!"
+
+"Car Four!" cried Bowles, setting down the suitcase with quite a
+dramatic start. "Why--why, isn't this remarkable, Miss Lee? To think
+that we should take the same train--on the same day--and then have the
+very same car! But, don't you know, you never finished that last story
+you were telling me--about the cowboy who went to the picnic--and now I
+shall demand the end of it. Really, Miss Lee, I enjoyed your tales
+immensely--but don't let me keep you waiting!"
+
+He hurried on, still commenting upon the remarkable coincidence; and as
+a memory of the reception came back to her and she recalled the avid way
+in which this same young man had hung upon her words, a sudden doubt, a
+shrewd questioning, came over the mind of Dixie Lee. Back in Arizona,
+now, a man with any git-up-and-git to him might--but, pshaw, this was
+not Arizona! And he was not that kind of man! No, indeed! The idea of
+one of these New York Willies doing the sleuth act and tagging her to
+the train!
+
+At the same time Dixie Lee had her misgivings about this correct young
+man, because she _knew_ his name was not Bowles. More than that, his
+language displeased her, reminding her as it did of her long winter's
+penance among the culturines. Three days more of highbrow conversation
+would just about finish her off--she must be stern, very stern, if she
+would avert the impending disaster! So she stabbed her neatly-trimmed
+little sombrero with a hatpin and waited for Mr. Bowles.
+
+"Lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?" he purled as he made bold
+to sit down beside her.
+
+"Yes, indeed," she answered, showing her white teeth in a simpering
+smile. "Simply heavenly. Don't you know, it reminds me of those lines in
+Wordsworth--you remember--I think it was in his 'Idiot Boy.' Oh, how do
+they go?"
+
+She knitted her brows and Mr. Bowles regarded her thoughtfully.
+
+"Perhaps it was in his 'Lines Written in Early Spring,'" he suggested
+guardedly.
+
+"No," she insisted. "It was in 'The Idiot Boy'--either that or in 'Lines
+Written to the Same Dog.' I forget which. Anyway, it told all about the
+rain, you know, and the clouds--and all that. Don't you remember? I
+thought you were full of Wordsworth."
+
+This last, was thrown out for a bait, to get Mr. Bowles to extend
+himself, but it failed of its effect. A somber smile took the place of
+the expected frenzy and he muttered half to himself as he gazed out of
+the window.
+
+"What's that you say?" she questioned sharply.
+
+"Oh, pardon me," he exclaimed, recovering himself with a sudden access
+of manner; "I was talking to myself, don't you know? But, really, I _am_
+pretty full of Wordsworth; so, if you don't mind, we'll talk about
+something else. My aunt, you know, is a great devotee of all the nature
+poets, and I attend the meetings to please her. It's an awful bore
+sometimes, too, I assure you; that's why your face was so welcome to me
+when I chanced to see you at the club-rooms. That lecturer was such a
+conceited ass and those women were so besotted in their admiration of
+him that I looked around to see if there was a single sane and
+reasonable creature in the room--and there you were, as stern and
+uncompromising as an angel and--oh, well, I formed a different
+conception of angels, right there. You were so delightfully humorous
+too, when Mrs. Melvine introduced us--and, well, really, Miss Lee, you
+are partly responsible for my leaving New York. I never fully realized
+before what our Western country must be like; I never dreamed that there
+was a place to flee to when the conventions of society grew irksome; but
+when you told me of your ranch, and the cowboys, and all the wonderful
+happenings of that wild and carefree life I--I made up my mind to chuck
+the whole thing, don't you know, and strike out for myself."
+
+"Oho!" breathed Dixie Lee, squinting down her eyes and regarding him
+with a shrewd smile. "So you're running away to be a cowboy, eh? Going
+West to fight the Indians! Well, well! But let me ask you one question,
+Mr. Bowles--if that's your name--I trust you don't plan to begin your
+depredations in my part of the country; because if you do----"
+
+"Oh, my dear Miss Lee," protested Mr. Bowles, "you have quite a mistaken
+idea, I assure you. Really, now, I hope you give me credit for more
+discretion than that. The fact is, I have an old college friend on a
+ranch in California and, though I have not taken my aunt entirely into
+confidence, I am really going out to make him a visit. It's all very
+well, you know, to read about sunsets in Wordsworth, but why not go out
+into the Far West and see the sun set indeed? That's what I say, but of
+course I would not offend her--she simply thinks my health is failing
+and I need a Western trip."
+
+"Oh!" said Dixie Lee quietly. "So _you've_ got an aunt, too, eh? What
+did you say her name was?"
+
+"Why, Mrs.--er--Bowles!"
+
+"But why Mrs. _Er_-Bowles?" queried Dixie May, relentlessly. "Why not
+Mrs. Bowles straight? Now, you know, Mr. Bowles, it looks very much to
+me as if----"
+
+"Her former name was Earl," interposed Mr. Bowles suavely, and carefully
+leaving out the "r." "My father's brother married a very dear friend of
+ours, a Mrs. Earl, and I sometimes call her so still--inadvertently, you
+know. I am an orphan now and Mrs. Earl--ah, Bowles--has taken me as a
+son. But you can readily understand how a young man of my age and
+disposition might not always fall in with a somewhat elderly lady's
+views of life, especially in regard to cultural influences, and while I
+love her very dearly and wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world----"
+
+"Yes, it's too bad about you!" observed Dixie Lee heartlessly; and then
+for quite a while she looked out of the car window as drab and dirty
+tenements slipped by and the train plunged into a tunnel.
+
+"How far West are you going?" she inquired, waking up suddenly from her
+reverie. "Lemme see your ticket. Um-m! Well, we travel together as far
+as Albuquerque, New Mex, and there we say 'Good-by.' I reckon California
+is about your size, Mr. Bowles, but don't you make any mistake and drop
+off in Arizona or the cowboys will scare you up some. As for the rest of
+it, I don't care what name a man goes by, but I see you are down on your
+ticket here as 'Houghton.'"
+
+There was a challenge in her voice; but Bowles was not dismayed.
+
+"Now, really, Miss Lee," he began, "why quibble over the accident of a
+name? Whether my name is Houghton, as I have signed it here, or Bowles,
+has nothing to do with the case. The fact is, I am suffering from an
+excess of aunts and Wordsworth, much in the same way that you are,
+perhaps, and my heart has gone out to the West. Be a good fellow now and
+help me out. Tell me about the country and what I would better do; and,
+though it is a small return, you shall have one more devoted slave to
+worship at your feet."
+
+A fleeting smile came into his eyes as he delivered himself of this
+last, and the queen of the Bat Wing Ranch paused suddenly to make sure
+there was no mistake. It would be hard indeed to find oneself laughed at
+by a suède New Yorker, and yet--well, he seemed to mean it, too.
+
+"Rise up, then, Sir Knight," she said, tapping him lightly with her
+sombrero; "and be mighty particular to change cars when we get to
+Albuquerque--otherwise the Chula Vista cowboys will make you hard to
+catch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE FAR WEST
+
+
+Three days is a short time in which to post a man on the Far West, but
+if you don't care what you say, and say it quick, you can give him a
+pretty good fill. Dixie Lee was almost sorry when the Limited rolled
+into Albuquerque, and Mr. Bowles was fairly tearful in his adieus.
+
+"Really, Miss Lee," he said, holding her hand with just a shade more
+than the proper pressure, "really, I shall never forget your kindness.
+The days have passed like a dream and I feel myself quite a Westerner
+already. Yes, I am sure I shall love the West--it is so big, and
+free--but what I like about it most is its splendid spirit of equality,
+its camaraderie. I can feel it everywhere--it is in the air--these
+great, rough-looking men, greeting perfect strangers in the smokers and
+on the platforms and saying: 'Say, pardner, gimme a match'--or a smoke,
+even! Oh, it is glorious! I--but, really, I must be going! So sorry our
+ways should part here. Well, good-by, Miss Lee--so glad we should happen
+to meet. I hope you have a pleasant journey. Thank you! Oh, don't
+mention it--good-by!"
+
+He raised his Dutch comedian hat once more, a trace of romantic
+mistiness came into his violet eyes, and then he hurried back to his
+luxurious quarters on the Limited while Dixie May sat and waited for the
+southbound to take her to Deming. It was not a cheerful journey to
+contemplate, for New Mexico and Arizona way trains are slow and dusty,
+and given to making poor connections and unseemly arrivals; but by ten
+o'clock that evening Dixie Lee hoped to get as far as Deming and then,
+if the Overland happened to be late too, she could catch a westbound
+passenger and get to Chula Vista before the hotel closed. The Western
+Limited pulled out as her train still stood on its track and she glanced
+at the rear-end of the observation car for a fluttering handkerchief;
+but Mr. Bowles' emotions seemed to have overcome him, for he was lacking
+in this last attention. She watched for him with a broad grin; then,
+when she was sure he was really gone, Dixie May threw herself back in
+her seat and laughed until she was silly.
+
+She was in good humor all the way to Deming, where the westbound was
+reported two hours late; but as she was pacing up and down the platform
+at midnight her face came suddenly straight. The westbound was standing
+on the track waiting for orders and she was walking along up toward the
+front when suddenly, through the smoking-car window, she beheld Sir
+Knight Bowles in eager converse with a grizzled old-timer! If it wasn't
+he, it was his twin brother--for there was the hard-boiled hat as large
+as life. The window was a little murky and the air was thick inside, but
+Dixie May was sure she had seen him--or was she having dreams?
+
+It seemed, somehow, as if she couldn't get that droll creature out of
+her mind. All the way down from Albuquerque she had been hearing his
+talk in her ears and laughing at the way he broadened his "a's" and
+purred and purled over his "r's." At times she had burst into
+inextinguishable laughter, insomuch that several of the male passengers
+had regarded her with curious glances and the train boy had tried to get
+gay with her; but Dixie Lee knew how to settle that kind of folks. A
+peanut butcher was a peanut butcher to her, and nothing more; and if he
+neglected to hawk his wares in order to drape himself over the back of
+her seat she could put him in his place. It was Mr. Bowles that she was
+thinking of--_Mr._ Bowles--and when she remembered the innocent look on
+his face as she filled him up with Indian atrocities and cattle-war
+stories she just simply had to laugh. But now to find him following
+her--to discover him on the same train when he was ticketed west out of
+Albuquerque--well, that was a different thing entirely!
+
+Dixie Lee retired to the sleeper to snatch a few hours of repose and
+when the dead-eyed porter set her down at Chula Vista she had entirely
+forgotten her knight. It was five o'clock on a cold March morning and
+the wind came in from across the prairie with a sweep that chilled the
+blood. It was so cold that the ticket-agent had ducked back into his
+inner sanctum before she could so much as hail him--and it was a quarter
+of a mile up to the hotel! Dixie May took a long look about her; she
+tried the waiting-room door; then, with a deep-drawn shudder, she turned
+to go it alone, when lo, a tall and masculine figure stepped out from
+behind the warehouse and she recognized Mr. Bowles!
+
+"Pardon me, madam," he said, doffing his comedian hat and addressing her
+as if she were a stranger; "I see you are all alone--can I be of any
+service to you?"
+
+It was dark, all right, but the idea of Mr. Bowles expecting to conceal
+his identity by mere starlight! She knew him, of course, the minute she
+saw his hat, but--well, what was the use of getting haughty about it?
+Why not do a little play-acting, too, until they got up to the hotel?
+
+"Why--why, yes," she faltered, simulating an appealing weakness. "It's
+very kind of you, I'm sure. I--I expected my father to meet me here,
+but----"
+
+"Ah, yes--very unfortunate," put in Bowles promptly. "Is there any hotel
+near? Just lead the way then, and I'll follow with your luggage. You
+might put on my overcoat if you're suffering from the cold. Rather not?
+Very well, then; let's hurry along to the hotel."
+
+They hurried, Bowles struggling with the baggage, of which he had three
+pieces, and Dixie Lee preparing her valedictory. Yes, much as she
+regretted it, she would have to bid him farewell--otherwise he might
+come tagging after her out to the ranch and set the whole country to
+talking. It was all very well back in New York, or on the train, but in
+the Tortugas--never! She would have to make her final effort cutting,
+but she hoped he would not take it too hard--and meanwhile, as a penance
+for his presumption, he could break his back packing her suitcases up
+from the station.
+
+"Ah, just a moment!" entreated Mr. Bowles, setting down the suitcases
+and working his tortured hands. "Oh, no, not heavy at all--perhaps I can
+fasten them together with this strap."
+
+He unbuckled the shoulder-strap from his alligator-skin bag and looped
+it through the handles of the suitcases.
+
+"Hah! Just the thing!" he exclaimed, slinging the two suitcases over his
+shoulder; and then, with a long, free stride, he swung along beside her,
+as tireless as an Indian--and as silent.
+
+A sudden sense of respect, almost of awe, came over Dixie Lee as she
+contemplated his masterful repose, but the hotel door was near and she
+nerved herself for the assault.
+
+"You think you're smart, don't you?" she snapped. "Following along after
+me this way! Just because I happened to be a little friendly----"
+
+"Now, really, Miss Lee," broke in Bowles with admirable calm, "I hope
+you will not be too hard on me. I assure you, if it had not been for
+your distressing situation--which no gentleman could overlook--you would
+never have been aware of my presence. But you have known me long enough,
+I am sure, to know that I would never presume to force my society upon
+any lady, more particularly upon one for whom----"
+
+"Well, what are you tagging along for then?" demanded Dixie Lee
+wrathfully. "When I said good-by to you up at Albuquerque you had a
+through ticket to California. Now here you are down at Chula Vista. What
+are you up to--that's what I want to know!"
+
+"To be sure!" agreed Mr. Bowles. "Under the circumstances, you have a
+perfect right to an explanation. I may as well confess then, Miss Lee,
+that your stories told on the train have fired me with a desire to see
+the real West, not the pseudo or imitation article, but the real thing
+with the hair on, as you so aptly phrased it. But here was my
+difficulty--I had no one to direct me. The hotel-keepers, the
+ticket-agents, even my Eastern friends in the West, might send me astray
+and I be none the wiser. I admit it was hardly a gentlemanly thing to
+do, but rather than lose my last chance to see the great West of which
+you spoke I followed after you; but without the slightest intention, I
+assure you, of making myself obnoxious. Is this the hotel ahead?"
+
+"Yes," said Dixie Lee, "it is. And while I wish to congratulate you upon
+your explanation I want to inform you, Mr. Bowles, that right here is
+where we part. You're looking for the Wild West, and here she is with
+her hair down. If you are hunting experiences these Chula Vista boys
+will certainly accommodate you; but from this time on, Mr. Bowles, we
+are strangers. We don't know each other, do you understand? If what you
+say is true, you followed me simply to find the Far West. This is it.
+We're quits, then; and I shall have to ask you, as a gentleman, not to
+annoy me further. You may be all right--back in New York--but out here
+it's different and I don't want to have the folks joshing me about you.
+So I'll bid you farewell, Mr. Bowles, and thank you kindly for carrying
+up my baggage--but don't you dare come around the Bat Wing Ranch, or
+I'll tell the boys to kill you!"
+
+She grabbed up her baggage as she spoke and hurried ahead, and when Mr.
+Bowles stepped into the hotel some minutes later she was as distant as
+an ivory goddess. Or a bronze goddess, to be exact, for the sun and wind
+had caressed the fair cheeks of Dixie May until they were as brown and
+ruddy as a berry, and even the steam heat of a New York apartment could
+only reduce their coloring. She seemed a goddess indeed to Bowles as she
+lingered beside the stove, her smooth, capable hands bared to the glow
+of the flames, and her body buoyant with the grace of youth; but the
+laughing brown eyes which had become the mirrors of his life were turned
+away now and all the world was changed.
+
+The bottle-nosed proprietor came shuffling in from the bar and silently
+handed him a pen; then, without looking at the name that was signed, he
+wrote a number after it and handed his guest a key.
+
+"Baggage?" he inquired as Mr. Bowles stood helplessly to one side.
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Bowles, recovering himself with an effort. "Here are the
+checks. My trunks will be in on a later train. Have them sent up, won't
+you?"
+
+"Sample room?" queried the hotel-keeper brusquely.
+
+"Beg pardon?"
+
+"D'ye want 'em put in the sample room?" snarled the proprietor, outraged
+at having to bandy words with the despised Easterner.
+
+"The sample room?" repeated Mr. Bowles, now thoroughly mystified. "Why,
+no--why should I?"
+
+At this final evidence of imbecility a mighty spasm of rage came over
+the proprietor, and as he struggled to regain his calm Dixie Lee
+suddenly clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and made a dash for the
+dining-room. The paroxysm passed and with an air of wearied indulgence
+the proprietor explained and disappeared.
+
+"All right!" he grumbled. "Guess you know your own business. Thought you
+was a travelin' man."
+
+He stepped back through the door marked "Bar" and Mr. Bowles was left to
+gasp alone. A traveling man! They took him for a traveling man! It was
+quite a shock, and Bowles was still brooding over it by the stove when
+the door from the bar was thrust open and a tall cowboy, booted and
+spurred and shapped and pistoled, came stalking into the room. His broad
+sombrero was shoved far back on his head, showing a tremendous stand of
+tumbled hair, and his keen hazel eyes roved about with the steady
+intentness of a hunting animal's; but only for the fraction of a second
+did he condescend to notice Bowles. He swayed a little as he walked and
+the aroma of whisky came with him, but otherwise he seemed perfectly
+sober.
+
+"Say!" he called, turning and kicking the bar door open again, "did Dix
+come in on that train? She did? Well, here's where I git hell--I was
+supposed to go down and meet 'er!"
+
+He came over and stood by the stove, apparently oblivious of the man
+before him, and while he waited he cursed himself in a cynical,
+impersonal sort of way that made a great impression on Bowles.
+
+"Well, where is she?" he demanded, as the proprietor hurried in behind
+him. "I ain't had a wink of sleep, but we'll have to hit the road
+anyway."
+
+"Dixie's in getting a cup of coffee," answered the proprietor. "Better
+have a seltzer first," he wheedled, taking him by the arm and drawing
+him toward the barroom.
+
+"You're dead right there too, old sport!" responded the cowboy heartily.
+"My head is as big as a balloon, and them grays will shore drag me over
+the dashboard if I don't kill some of this whisky."
+
+He tottered out as he spoke and Mr. Bowles half rose from his chair.
+Dixie Lee was in danger; she was in imminent peril of death! He must
+warn her--he must help her--he must try to save her life! He was in a
+fever of excitement when the dining-room door finally swept open and
+Dixie May entered the room; but she was calm, very calm, and something
+about her bade him hold his hand. Then the barroom door swung in again
+and the cowboy appeared, walking head up with a masterful stride--and a
+look in his eyes that Bowles knew all too well.
+
+"Why, hello, Dix!" he cried, hurrying over and striking hands with her.
+"Well, well, how're you comin'? What, don't I draw nothin'?"
+
+"No, you don't!" responded Dixie Lee, stepping back as he impudently
+offered to kiss her. "Not unless it's a good slap for not meeting me
+down at the train! How's Maw and Paw and all the boys? Have you gentled
+that colt for me yet?"
+
+And so, with many laughing sallies, they passed out into the cold dawn,
+leaving Bowles to sit by the fire and stare. But in her last glance he
+had read a challenge, and he did not let it pass.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE BAT WING RANCH
+
+
+A week passed by while Mr. Bowles prepared for his great emprise, and
+then one evening as the sun set behind the purple peaks of the Tortugas
+and lighted up the white walls of the big house on the hill a stranger
+might have been seen riding up toward the Bat Wing gate. In fact, he was
+seen, and the round-up cook, who was washing supper dishes at the rear
+of the chuck-wagon, delivered himself of a heartfelt curse.
+
+"What's the matter, Gus?" inquired a lounging cowboy who was hovering
+over the fire. "Drop yore dishrag?"
+
+"No; and I don't need to around this ranch!" commented Gus with bitter
+emphasis. "It's a common remark or sayin' that when you drop yore
+dishrag it means a visitor is comin'--or, as some say, it means bad
+luck. Now jest look at that ornery feller comin' up the road! Can't let
+his hawse out none--can't whip up a little and git in by
+supper-time--has to come draggin' in jest as I'm finishin' my work!"
+
+The cowboy raised himself up slowly from crouching on his heels and
+regarded the stranger intently.
+
+"Say, who is that?" he said at last. "Looks like he was ridin' that
+little bald-faced sorrel that Lon Morrell traded to Jim Scrimsher last
+summer. Yes, sir, it's the very same hawse--that's somebody from down
+Chula Vista way!"
+
+"Well, I don't care where he comes from," grumbled the cook, "as long as
+he comes a-runnin'! I sure will be one happy man when the wagon gits
+away from this ranch and I git shut of these no-'count, worthless
+chuck-riders. Well, biscuits and coffee is all he gits now, I don't care
+if he's a cattle-buyer!"
+
+He wiped his hands carefully on a clean towel he kept hid for that
+purpose, pulled out his long gray mustaches and regarded the stranger
+with a baleful stare.
+
+"Hoo!" he sneered. "Look at them shaps, will you? Ain't them the fancy
+pants though! Right new, too--and git on to that great big six-shooter!
+Must be a forest ranger!"
+
+"Shut up!" said the cowboy as the stranger dropped off at the gate. "He
+might hear ye!"
+
+"Don't give a rip if he did!" snorted Gus, to whom Uncle Sam's gay young
+forest-savers were intimately associated with an extra plate; and,
+grumbling and slamming down dishes, he returned to his manifold duties.
+
+But the stranger was evidently not a common chuck-rider; in fact, so
+gloriously was he appareled that the moment his rigging became apparent
+the idling cowboy made a swift sneak to the bunk-house, where the boys
+were wrangling over a pitch game, and turned in a general alarm.
+
+"Come out, fellers," he whispered hoarsely, "and see the new tenderfoot!
+Hurry up, he's goin' over to the big house! Say, he's a forest ranger
+all right!"
+
+"Nothin' of the kind!" asserted a burly cow-puncher, thrusting his head
+out the door. "Movin' picture cowboy, I'll bet a hat!"
+
+The stranger remounted gracefully as they gazed out at him; then he
+touched his jaded sorrel with the spur and trotted over to the big house
+gate--and as he trotted he rose rhythmically in his stirrups, while all
+cowboy-land stood aghast!
+
+"English!" they gasped in a chorus, and burst into fervid curses as they
+stared at the uncouth sight. A grown man, a white man, and hopping up
+and down like that! Holy, jumping Jerusalem! They beat each other on the
+back in an agony of despair--and yet it was no more than Mr. Bowles,
+dropping back into his old Central Park habits. To be sure, the man who
+coached him at Chula Vista had warned him against it repeatedly, but the
+customs of a lifetime are not wiped out in a minute, and to that extent
+Mr. Bowles was still an Easterner.
+
+The big white house in which Henry Lee made his home was a landmark in
+southeast Arizona. Some people merely referred to it as "The White
+House," and though it was forty miles from the railroad it was as well
+known in its way as the abiding place of Presidents in Washington. The
+White House was a big, square, adobe building, set boldly on the top of
+a low hill and surrounded by a broad wooden gallery, from behind whose
+clambering honeysuckles and gnarled rose-bushes Mrs. Lee and Dixie May
+looked down upon the envious world below. To be invited up to the big
+house, to sit on the flower-scented porch and listen to the soft voices
+of the women--that was a dream to which every cow-puncher's heart
+aspired, although in the realization many a bold, adventurous man lost
+face and weakened. But to Bowles the big house was the natural place to
+go, and he unlatched the gate and mounted to the gallery without a
+tremor.
+
+Upon the edge of the porch, smoking his pipe and gazing out over his
+domain, sat Henry Lee, the pioneer cattleman of the Tortugas Valley, and
+a man who had fought Indians to get his start. He was a great man--old
+Henry Lee--but to Bowles chiefly distinguished by being the father of
+Dixie May.
+
+"Ah, good-evening!" he began, bringing his heels together and bowing.
+"Are you Mr. Lee?"
+
+The cattleman looked at him a moment with a calm, appraising eye. He was
+a small, rather slight man, but square-shouldered and far from
+decrepit--also, he had seen the procession go by for quite a while, and
+he could judge most men by their faces.
+
+"That's my name," he said, rising quietly from his place. "What can I do
+for you?"
+
+"My name is Bowles," said that gentleman, following the procedure he
+thought most fitting in one seeking employment. "Mr. Scrimsher, of Chula
+Vista, has referred me to you in regard to a position as cowboy. I
+should like very much to get such a place."
+
+"Sorry, Mr. Bowles," answered Mr. Lee, knocking the ashes out of his
+pipe, "but I'm not taking on any hands at present."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" murmured the would-be cowboy, not at all dismayed.
+"Perhaps there will be an opening for me later?"
+
+"No; I'm afraid not. I generally take on about the same boys every year,
+or men that know the country, and there won't be any place for you."
+
+There was something very final about the way that this was said, and
+Bowles paused to meditate.
+
+"Turn your horse into the pasture and git some supper at the wagon,"
+added the old man, with a friendly gesture; but supper was not what
+Bowles had come for. He had come to get a job where he could be near the
+queen of his heart, and perhaps win her by some deed of prowess and
+daring. So he ignored this tacit dismissal and returned again to the
+charge.
+
+"I can readily understand, Mr. Lee," he began, "why you hesitate to
+employ a stranger, and especially a man who has newly come from the
+East, but if you would give me a trial for a few days I am sure you
+would find me a very willing worker. I have come out here in order to
+learn the cattle business, and the compensation is of no importance to
+me at first; in fact, I should be glad to work without pay until you
+found my services of value. Perhaps now----"
+
+"Nope," interposed the cattleman, shaking his head regretfully. "I've
+tried that before, and it don't work. Cow-punching is a business by
+itself, and it can't be learned in a minute; in fact, a good puncher is
+the scarcest thing on the range, and I either pay the top price or I
+don't take a man on at all. I can't stop to monkey with green hands."
+
+Now, this was pretty direct, and it was calculated to put the ordinary
+tenderfoot in his place; but Mr. Bowles came from a self-selected class
+of people who are accustomed to having their own way, and he would not
+acknowledge himself beaten.
+
+"Now, really, Mr. Lee," he protested, "I don't think you are quite fair
+to me in this. As I understand it, your round-up is just beginning, and
+I am sure I could be of some service--for a few days, at least."
+
+The old man glanced at his fancy new outfit, and thought he saw another
+way out.
+
+"Can you ride?" he inquired, asking that first fatal question before
+which so many punchers go down.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Bowles politely.
+
+"You mean you can ride a gentle horse," corrected Lee. "I've got some
+pretty wild ones in my bunch, and of course a new hand couldn't expect
+to get the best. Can you rope?"
+
+"No, I mean any horse," retorted Bowles, avoiding the subject of roping.
+"Any horse you have."
+
+"Hmm!" observed Mr. Lee, laying down his pipe and regarding his man with
+interest. "Did you ever ride any bad horses?"
+
+"Yes, sir," lied Bowles; "several of them."
+
+"And you think you can ride any horse I've got, eh?" mused Lee. "Well,
+I'll tell you, Mr. Bowles," he continued, speaking very deliberately;
+"I've got a horse in my remuda that killed a man last fall--if you'll
+ride him I'll take you on for a puncher."
+
+"Very well, sir," responded Bowles. "And thank you very much. It's very
+kind of you, I'm sure."
+
+He turned to go but the cattleman stopped him in his second stride. His
+bluff had been called, for it would never do to go to a show-down--not
+unless he wanted a man's blood on his hands.
+
+"Here! Wait a minute!" he cried impatiently. "I don't want to get you
+killed, so what's the use of talking? The only way for you to get to be
+a cow-puncher is to work up to it, the way everybody does. I'll give you
+a job as flunky at twenty a month and found, and if you make good I'll
+put you on for horse wrangler. How does that strike you?"
+
+"Ah--what are the duties of a flunky?" inquired Bowles, cautiously and
+without enthusiasm. "You know, I'm quite content with your first
+proposal."
+
+"Very likely," answered Mr. Lee dryly. "But wait till you see the horse.
+All a flunky has to do is to help the cook, wash the dishes, drag up a
+little wood, and drive the bed-wagon."
+
+"It's very kind of you, I'm sure," murmured Mr. Bowles; "but I think I
+prefer the other."
+
+"The other what?"
+
+"Why, the other position--the job of cow-puncher."
+
+"You don't think I'll let you ride that horse, do you?" demanded Mr. Lee
+sternly.
+
+"Why--so I understood you."
+
+The old cattleman snorted and muttered to himself. He had talked too
+much and that was all there was to it. Now he would have to make some
+concessions to pay for it.
+
+"Listen to me, young man," he said, rising and tapping him on the
+shoulder. "The horse that killed Dunbar is the worst man-eater in the
+country--I ought to have shot the brute long ago--and if you try to ride
+him he'll throw you before you git your stirrup. More'n that, he'll kick
+you before you hit the ground, and jump on you before you bounce. My
+twister, Hardy Atkins, won't go near 'im, and he's one of the best
+riders in Arizona; so what's the use of talking about it? Now, you're a
+stranger here, and I'll make an exception of you--how about that flunky
+job?"
+
+"Why--really----" Mr. Bowles hesitated a moment. "Perhaps it's only in
+the name, but I'd rather not accept such a menial position. Of course,
+it's very kind of you to offer me the alternative, but----"
+
+"Now, here!" cried the cattleman fiercely. "I'll make you assistant
+horse wrangler, at thirty dollars a month, and if you don't accept I'll
+tell Hardy to catch up the old man-killer and put you in the hospital! I
+was a fool to talk to you the way I did; but don't you crowd me too far,
+young man, or you'll find Henry Lee a man of his word! Now, will you
+wrangle horses, or will we have to ship you East?"
+
+Bowles stared at him for a moment, and then he drew himself up proudly.
+
+"If the choice lies between a menial position----" he began; and old
+Henry brought his teeth together with a click.
+
+"You poor, dam', ignorant tenderfoot!" he raved. "You don't know when
+you're being treated white! You ain't worth a cent to me, sir--no, not a
+cent! And now I'm going to learn you something! I'll ask my twister to
+put the saddle on old Dunbar in the morning, and you'll have to ride
+him, sir, or own yourself a coward!"
+
+"Very well, sir," answered Bowles, with military stiffness. "Very well!
+I will see you in the morning, then."
+
+He bowed and strode off down the path, his new shaps flapping
+ponderously as he walked; and the old cattleman brushed his eyes to
+drive the mad thought away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BRIGHAM
+
+
+If his strategic victory over Henry Lee had given Bowles, the pseudo
+cowboy, any swelled-up ideas about taking the Bat Wing outfit by storm,
+he was promptly undeceived when he went up against Gloomy Gus, the cook.
+Gus had set the sour dough for men old enough to be Mr. Bowles'
+grandfather; men who were, so he averred, the superiors of any punchers
+now living and conspicuously prompt at their meals. In striking contrast
+to these great souls, Bowles had lingered entirely too long up at the
+big house; and when, after tying up his horse and feeding him some of
+Mr. Lee's long-treasured hay, he came dragging up to the chuck-wagon,
+the hour of grace had passed. Gloomy Gus was reclining beside his fire
+in converse with a red-headed cowboy, and neither of them looked up.
+
+"Ah, pardon me," began Mr. Bowles, with perhaps a trace of condescension
+in his voice; "can you tell me where I will find the cook?"
+
+The red-headed cowboy sat like a graven image, with his eyes fixed on
+the fire, and finally the cook replied.
+
+"You'll find him right here, Mister," he said, "from four o'clock in the
+mornin' till sundown--and then, by grab, he quits!"
+
+The injured emphasis with which this last was enunciated left no doubt
+as to the identity of the speaker, and Bowles murmured polite regrets;
+but, coming as he did from a land where cooks are not kings, he
+continued with the matter in hand.
+
+"So sorry," he purled, "if I am a little late; but Mr. Lee told me to
+come down here and ask you to give me some dinner."
+
+"Huh!" grunted the cook. "Did you hear that, Brigham?"
+
+The cowboy nodded gravely and squinched his humorous eyes at the fire.
+He was a burly young man, dressed for business in overalls and jumper,
+but sporting a big black hat and a fine pair of alligator-topped boots;
+and from the way his fat cheeks wrinkled up it was evident he was
+expecting some fun.
+
+The cook regarded Bowles for a minute with evident disapproval; then he
+raised himself on one elbow and delivered his ultimatum.
+
+"Well, Mr. Man," he rasped, making his manner as offensive as possible,
+"you go back and tell Mr. Lee that I won't give you no dinner. Savvy? Ef
+you'd come round when you first rode in I might've throwed you out
+somethin', but now you can rustle yore own grub."
+
+At these revolutionary remarks, Mr. Bowles started, and for a moment he
+almost forgot his breeding; then he withdrew into himself, and let the
+gaucherie pass with the contempt which it deserved. But it is hard to be
+dignified when you are hungry, and after several minutes of silence he
+addressed himself to the cowboy.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, "but is there any other place nearby where I could
+buy a little food?"
+
+"W'y, no, stranger," returned the cowboy amiably; "I don't reckon there
+is. Why don't you pick up a little around here? They's some coffee in
+that pot."
+
+He nodded toward a large black coffee-pot that stood simmering by the
+fire, and Bowles cast a questioning glance at the cook.
+
+"Hop to it!" exclaimed that dignitary, not a little awed by the
+stranger's proud reserve. "They's some bread in that can up there."
+
+But still Bowles was helpless.
+
+"Er--where do you eat?" he inquired, looking about for some sign of a
+table, or even of a plate and cup.
+
+"Anywhere!" answered the cook, with a large motion of the hand. Then, as
+his guest still stood staring, he wearily rose to his feet. Without a
+word, he reached down into a greasy box and grabbed out a tin plate and
+cup; from another compartment he fished forth a knife, fork and spoon;
+with a pot-hook he lifted the cover of an immense Dutch oven, thumped an
+oil-can half-full of cooked beans, and slopped a little coffee out of
+the pot. Then he let down the hinged door to his chuck-box, spread a
+clean white flour sack on it, laid out the dishes with elaborate
+solicitude, and slumped down again by the fire. Nothing said--and the
+cowboy sat nerveless in his place--but Mr. Bowles felt rebuked. He was a
+tenderfoot--an Easterner masquerading as a cowboy--and every movement of
+the sardonic pot-tender was calculated to rub it in and leave him, as it
+did, in a welter of rage and shame.
+
+From the oil-can be dipped out some beans; he poured coffee and ate in
+silence, not daring to ask for butter or sugar lest he should still
+further reveal his ignorance; and when he had finished his meal he
+slipped away and went out to look at his horse. A piano was tinkling up
+at the big house, and the stars were very bright, but neither stars nor
+music could soothe his wounds, and at last he went back to the fire. The
+cook was gone now, and the cowboy also; the big noise was in the long,
+low building from which so many heads had appeared when he rode in from
+Chula Vista. He paused at the doorway, and listened; then, bracing
+himself for the hazing which was his due, he knocked.
+
+"Come in!" yelled a raucous voice in an aside to the general uproar.
+"Come in here----No, by thunder, you played a seven! Well, where is it,
+then? Show me, pardner; I'm from Missou'. If you played the jack, where
+is it?"
+
+Bowles pushed open the door, that scraped and sagged as he shoved it,
+and stepped into a room that was exactly posed for one of those
+old-fashioned pictures labeled "Evil Associates; or The First Step
+Toward Destruction." At a long table, upon which burned a smoky lamp, a
+group of roughly dressed men were wrangling over a game of cards, while
+other evil-doers looked over their shoulders and added to the general
+blasphemy. A growth of beard, ranging anywhere from three days' to a
+week's, served to give them all a ferocious, cave-dweller appearance;
+and so intent were they on their quarrel that not a man looked up. If
+Bowles had expected to be the center of the stage, it was from an
+exaggerated sense of his own importance, for so lightly was he held that
+no one so much as glanced at him--with the single exception of the
+red-headed cowboy, who was playing a mouth-organ in the corner--until
+the missing jack was produced.
+
+A wooden bunk, built against the wall, was weighed down with a sprawling
+mass of long-limbed men; on the floor the canvas-covered beds of the
+cowboys were either thrown flat or still doubled up in rolls; and the
+only other furniture in sight was the two benches by the table and a hot
+stove that did yeoman service as a cuspidor. The air was thick with the
+smoke of cigarettes, and those who did not happen to be smoking were
+chewing plug tobacco, but the thing which struck Bowles as most
+remarkable was the accuracy with which they expectorated. A half oil-can
+filled with ashes served as a mark on the farther side; and the big,
+bull-voiced puncher who had so casually bid him come in was spitting
+through a distant knot-hole, which was rapidly becoming the center of a
+"Texas Flag."
+
+Really, it was astounding to Bowles, even after all he had read and seen
+enacted on the films, to observe the rude abandon of these Western
+characters, and particularly in their speech. Somehow the Western tales
+he had read had entirely failed to catch the startling imagery of their
+vernacular--or perhaps the editors had cut it out. The well-known
+tendency toward personal violence, however, was ever present, and as
+Bowles made bold to overlook the game a controversy sprang up which
+threatened to result in bloodshed.
+
+The bull-voiced man--a burly, hook-nosed Texan, who answered to the name
+of Buck--was playing partners with a tall, slim, quiet-spoken puncher
+who centered all his thoughts on the cards; and against them were ranged
+a good-natured youth called Happy Jack and the presumptuous cowboy who
+had offered to kiss Dixie Lee. The game was fast, proceeding by signs
+and grunts and mysterious knocks on the table, and as it neared its
+close and each man threw down his cards with a greater vehemence, Happy
+Jack flipped out three final cards and made a grab for the matches. But
+this did not suit the ideas of the bull moose and his partner, and they
+rose from their seats with a roar.
+
+"What you claim?" demanded Buck, laying a firm hand on the stakes.
+
+"High, low, and the game!" answered Happy Jack wrathfully.
+
+"You ain't got no game," put in the quiet puncher. "Why don't you play
+yore hand out instead of makin' a grab?"
+
+"Here now!" spoke up Dixie Lee's miscreant friend, leaning half-way
+across the table. "You-all quit jumpin' on Happy or I'll bust you on the
+_cabezon_!"
+
+"Yes, you will!" sneered Buck, shoving his big head closer, as if to
+dare the blow. "You don't look bad to me, Hardy Atkins, and never did;
+and don't you never think for a moment that you can run it over me and
+Bill, because you cain't! Now you better pull in that ornery face of
+yourn while it's all together--and we're goin' to count them cards, by
+this-and-that, if it's the last act!"
+
+So they raged and wrangled, apparently on the very verge of a personal
+conflict; but as the play wore on Bowles became increasingly aware of a
+contemptuous twinkle that dwelt in the eyes of the man called Hardy
+Atkins. Then it came over him suddenly that other eyes were upon him;
+and instantly the typical Western scene was wrecked, and he saw himself
+made the fool. No burst of ruffianly laughter gave point to the
+well-planned jest--it passed over as subtly as a crisis in high
+society--but as he turned away from the game Bowles found himself in
+possession of a man-sized passion. Back where he came from an open,
+personal hatred was considered a little _outré_; but the spirit of the
+wilds had touched him already, and Hardy Atkins, the green-eyed,
+familiar friend of Dixie Lee, was the man that he hoped would choke.
+
+As interest in the pitch game languished and a scuffle made the bunk
+untenable, stray cowboys began to drift outside again, some to seek out
+their beds beneath the wagon-sheds and others to foregather about the
+fire. First among these was the red-headed man called Brigham; and when
+Bowles, after sitting solitary for a while, followed after them, he
+found Brigham the center of attraction. Perched upon an upturned box,
+and with one freckled hand held out to keep the firelight from his eyes,
+he was holding forth with a long story which had everybody listening.
+
+"And I says to this circus feller," he was saying, "'Well, I ain't never
+done no bareback work, but if you cain't git no one else to jump through
+them hoops I'll guarantee to take the pretty outer _one_ of 'em. But you
+be mighty p'ticular to pop that whip of yourn, pardner,' I says to the
+ring-master, 'or that ol' rockin'-hawse will git away from me.'"
+
+He cocked one eye up to see if Bowles was listening, and then indulged
+in a reminiscent chuckle.
+
+"Well, I climbed up on that ol' rockin'-hawse--I was dressed like a
+clown, of course--and after the regular people had gone round the ring I
+come rackin' along out of the side-tent, a-bowin' to all the ladies and
+whistlin' to all the dogs, until you'd think I was goin' to do wonders.
+But all the kids was on, and they begin to laugh and throw peanuts,
+because they knowed the clown was bound to git busted--that's what the
+rascal is paid fer. Well, we went canterin' around the ring, me and that
+old white hawse that had been doin' it for fifteen years, and every time
+we come to a hoop I'd make my jump--the ring-master would pop his
+whip--and when I come squanderin' out the other side the old hawse would
+be right there to ketch me. Trick he had--he'd slow down and kinder wait
+fer me--but that dogged ring-master put up a job on me--he shore did;
+but the scoundrel tried to lie out of it afterwards.
+
+"You see, them people that come out to Coney they expect somethin' fer
+their money, and bein' as I was only the fill-in man and the other
+feller was comin' back anyway, the management decided to ditch me. So
+when I made a jump at my last hoop the ring-master forgot to pop his
+whip--or so he said--and I come down on my head and like to killed me.
+Well, sir, the way them people hollered you'd think the king had come,
+an' when a couple of fool clowns come runnin' out and carried me off on
+a shutter they laughed till they was pretty nigh sick. That's the way it
+is at Coney Island--unless somebody is gittin' killed, them tight-wads
+won't spend a cent."
+
+The red-headed raconteur laughed a little to himself, and, seeing his
+audience still attentive, he launched out into another.
+
+"Yes, sir!" he began. "That's a great place--old Coney. You boys that's
+never been off the range don't know what it is you've missed. There's
+side shows, and circuses, and shoot-the-chutes, and whirley-go-rounds,
+and Egyptian seeresses, and hot-dog joints, and--well, say, speakin' of
+hot-dog reminds me of the time I took the job of spieler fer Go-Go, the
+dog-faced boy. This here Go-Go was a yaller nigger that they had rigged
+up like a cannibal and put in a big box along with a lot of dehorned
+rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and sech. It was my job to stand up over
+the box, while the ballyhoo man outside was pullin' 'em in, and pop a
+whip over this snake-eatin' cannibal, and let on like he was tryin' to
+escape. I had a little old pistol that I'd shoot off, and then Go-Go
+would rattle his chain and yell '_Owww-wah!_' like he was sure eatin'
+'em alive.
+
+"That was the barker's cue, and he'd holler out: 'Listen to the wild
+thing! He howls, and howls, and howls! Go-Go, the wild boy, the
+snake-eatin' Igorotte from the Philippines! Step right in, ladies and
+gentlemen! The price is ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a
+dollar----' and all that kind of stuff, until the place was filled up.
+Then it was my turn to spiel, and I'd git up on the box, with a
+blacksnake in one hand and that little old pistol in the other, and say:
+
+"'La-adies and gentle-men, before our performance begins I wish to say a
+few words relatin' to Echigogo Cabagan, the wild boy of Luzon. This
+strange creature was captured by Lieutenant Crawford, of the
+Seventy-ninth Heavy Artillery, in the wilds of the Igorotte country in
+the Philippines. At the time of his recovery he was livin' in the
+tropical jungles, never havin' seen a human face, an' subsistin'
+entirely upon poisonous reptyles, which was his only pets and
+companions. So frequently was he bit by these venomous reptyles that
+Professor Swope, of the Philadelphia Academy, after a careful analysis
+of his blood, figgers out that it contains seven fluid ounces of the
+deadly poison, or enough to kill a thousand men.
+
+"'On account of the requests of the humane society, the mayor, and
+several prominent ladies now present in the audience, we will do our
+best to prevent Go-Go from eatin' his snakes alive but----' and right
+there was the nigger's cue to come in.
+
+"'_Oww-wah!_' he'd yell, shakin' his chain and tearin' around in his
+box, '_Ow-woo-wah_!' And then he'd grab up them pore, sufferin'
+rattlesnakes and sech, and quile 'em around his neck, and snap his teeth
+like he was bitin' heads off--and me, I'd pop my whip and shoot off my
+pistol, and scare them fool people most to death.
+
+"Well, that was the kind of an outfit it was, and one day when the
+nigger was quieted down between acts and playin' with a rag-doll we had
+give him in order to make him look simple-minded-like, a big, buck Injun
+from the Wild West Show come in with the bunch and looked at Go-Go
+kinder scary-like. You know----"
+
+A noise of scuffling feet made the story-teller pause, and then the gang
+of card players came tumbling out of the bunk-house.
+
+"Let's roast some ribs," said one.
+
+"No, I want some bread and lick," answered another.
+
+"What's the matter with aigs?" broke in a third.
+
+"Say, you fellers shut up, will you?" shouted a man by the fire. "Old
+Brig's tellin' us a story!"
+
+"Oh, git 'im a chin-strap," retorted the bull-voiced Buck. "I want some
+ribs!"
+
+"Well, keep still, can't ye?" appealed the anxious listener; but silence
+was not on the cards. The chuck-box was broken open and ransacked for a
+butcher-knife; then as Buck went off to trim away the ribs of the cook's
+beef, Hardy Atkins and his friends made merry with the quiet company.
+
+"Ridin' 'em again, are you, Brigham?" inquired Happy Jack with a grin.
+
+"No, he's divin' off'n that hundred-foot pole!" observed Poker-faced
+Bill sardonically.
+
+"And never been outside the Territory!" commented Hardy Atkins _sotto
+voce_.
+
+Something about this last remark seemed to touch the loquacious Brigham,
+for he answered it with spirit:
+
+"Well, that's more than some folks can say," he retorted. "I sure never
+run no hawse race with the sheriff out of Texas!"
+
+"No, you pore, ignorant Jack Mormon," jeered Atkins; "and you never rode
+no circus hawse at Coney Island, neither. I've seen fellers that knowed
+yore kinfolks down on the river, and they swore to Gawd you never been
+outside of Arizona. More'n that, they said you was a worser liar than
+old Tom Pepper--and he got kicked out of hell fer lyin'."
+
+A guffaw greeted this allusion to the fate of poor old Tom; but Brigham
+was not to be downed by comparisons.
+
+"Yes," he drawled; "I heerd about Tom Pepper. I heerd say he was a
+Texican, and the only right smart one they was; and the people down
+there was so dog ignorant, everything he told 'em they thought it was a
+lie. Built up quite a reputation that way--like me, here. Seems like
+every time I tell these Arizona Texicans anything, they up and say I'm
+lyin'."
+
+He ran his eye over his audience and, finding no one to combat him
+further, he lapsed into a mellow philosophy.
+
+"Yes," he said, cocking his eye again at Bowles; "I'm an ignorant kind
+of a feller, and I don't deny it; but I ain't one of these men that
+won't believe a thing jest because I never seen it. Now, here's a
+gentleman here--I don't even know his name--but the chances are, if he's
+ever been to Coney, he'll tell you my stories is nothin'."
+
+"How about that hundred-foot pole?" inquired Poker Bill, as Bowles bowed
+and blushed.
+
+"Yes, sure!" agreed Brigham readily. "We'll take that one now and let it
+go fer the bunch. If that's true, they're all true, eh?"
+
+"That's me!" observed Bill laconically.
+
+"All right, then, stranger," continued Brigham. "We'll jest leave the
+matter with you, and if what I said ain't true I'll never open my head
+again. I was tellin' these pore, ignorant Texas cotton-pickers that back
+at Coney Island they was a feller that did high divin'--ever see
+anything like that? All right, then, this is what I told 'em. I told 'em
+this divin' sport had a pole a hundred foot high, with a tank of water
+at the bottom six foot deep and mebbe ten foot square, and when it come
+time he climbed up to the top and stood on a little platform, facin'
+backwards and lookin' into a pocket mirror. Then he begun to lean over
+backwards, and finally, when everything was set, he threw a flip-flap
+and hit that tank a dead center without hurtin' himself a bit. Now, how
+about it--is that a lie?"
+
+He looked up at Bowles with a steady gaze; and that gentleman did not
+fail him.
+
+"Why, no," he said; "really, I see no reason to doubt what you say. Of
+course, I haven't been to Coney Island recently, but such events are
+quite a common occurrence there."
+
+"Now, you see?" inquired Brigham triumphantly. "This gentleman has been
+around a little. Back at Coney them stunts is nothin'! They don't even
+charge admission."
+
+"But how can that feller hit the water every time?" argued Bill the
+doubter, pressing forward to fight the matter out.
+
+"Don't make no difference how he does it," answered Brigham; "that's
+_his_ business. If people knowed how he done it, they wouldn't come to
+see 'im no more. By jicks, I'd jest like to take some of you fellers
+back to New York and show you some of the real sights. I ain't hardly
+dared to open my mouth since I took on with this ignorant outfit, but
+now that I got a gentleman here that's been around a little I may loosen
+up and tell you a few things."
+
+"Oh, my Joe!" groaned Hardy Atkins, making a motion like fanning bees
+from his ears. "Hear the doggone Mormon talk--and never been outer the
+Territory! Been pitchin' hay and drinkin' ditch-water down on the Gila
+all his life and----"
+
+"That's all right," retorted Brigham stoutly; "I reckon----"
+
+"Well, git out of the way!" shouted the voice of Buck. "And throw down
+that frame so I can roast these ribs!"
+
+That ended the controversy for the time, but before the ribs were cooked
+Brigham edged in another story--and he proved it by Mr. Bowles. It was a
+trifle improbable, perhaps, but Bowles was getting the spirit of the
+Great West and he vouched for it in every particular. Then when the ribs
+were done he cut some of the scorched meat from the bones, and ate it
+half-raw with a pinch of salt, for he was determined to be a true sport.
+Buck and Brigham devoured from one to two pounds apiece and gnawed on
+the bones like dogs; but Mr. Bowles was more moderate in his desires.
+What he really longed for was a bed or a place to sleep; but the
+gentleman who had coached him on cowboy life--and sold him his fancy
+outfit--had not mentioned the sleeping accommodations, and Bowles was
+too polite to inquire. So he hung around until the last story was told,
+and followed the gang back to the bunk-house.
+
+Each man went to his big blanket roll and spread it out for the night
+without a single glance at the suppliant, for a cowboy hates to share
+his bed; but as they were taking off their boots Brigham Clark spoke up.
+
+"Ain't you got no bed, stranger?" he inquired; and when Bowles shook his
+head he looked at Hardy Atkins, who as bronco-twister and top-hand held
+the job of straw-boss. A silence fell and Bowles glanced about uneasily.
+
+"There's a bed over there in the saddle-room," observed Atkins, with a
+peculiar smile.
+
+A startled look went around the room, and then Buck came in on the play.
+
+"Yes," he said, "that feller ain't here now."
+
+"Oh, thank you," began Bowles, starting toward it; but he was halted in
+his tracks by a savage oath from Brigham.
+
+"Here!" he ordered. "You come and sleep with me--that's Dunbar's bed!"
+
+"Dunbar's!" exclaimed Bowles with a gasp. "Ah, I see!" And with a secret
+shudder he turned away from the dead man's bed and crept in next to
+Brigham.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+WA-HA-LOTE
+
+
+The cowboy's day begins early, no matter how he spends his night. It was
+four o'clock in the morning and Bowles was dead with sleep when suddenly
+the light of a lantern was thrown in his eyes and he heard the cook's
+voice rousing up the horse wranglers.
+
+"Wranglers!" he rasped, shaking Brigham by the shoulder. "Git up, Brig;
+it's almost day!"
+
+"All right, Gus!" answered Brigham, cuddling down for another nap; but
+Gloomy Gus had awakened too many generations of cowboys to be deceived
+by a play like that, and on his way out to finish breakfast he stumbled
+over Brigham's boots and woke him up to give them to him. So, with many
+a yawn and sigh, poor Brigham and his fellow wrangler stamped on their
+boots and went out to round up the horse pasture, and shortly afterward
+a shrill yell from the cook gave notice that breakfast was ready. Five
+minutes later he yelled again and beat harshly on a dishpan; then, as
+the rumble of the horse herd was heard, he came and kicked open the
+door.
+
+"Hey, git up, boys!" he shouted. "Breakfast's waitin' and the remuda is
+in the c'rell! The old man will be down hollerin' 'Hawses!' before you
+git yore coffee!"
+
+The bite of the cold morning air swept in as he stood there and roused
+them at last to action. Swiftly Buck and Bill and Happy Jack rolled out
+and hustled into their clothes; other men not yet known by name hurried
+forth to wash for breakfast; and at last Bowles stepped out, to find the
+sky full of stars. A cold wind breathed in from the east, where the
+deceitful radiance of the false dawn set a halo on the distant ridges;
+and the cowboy's life, for the moment, seemed to offer very little to an
+errant lover. Around the cook's fire, with their coat collars turned up
+to their ears, a group of punchers was hovering in a half-circle,
+leaving the other half for Gloomy Gus. Their teeth chattered in the
+frosty silence, and one by one they washed their faces in hot water from
+the cook's can and waited for the signal to eat. Then the wranglers came
+in, half frozen from their long ride in the open pasture, and as Brigham
+poured out a cup of coffee, regardless, old Gus raised the lid from a
+Dutch oven, glanced in at the nicely browned biscuits and hollered:
+
+"Fly at it!"
+
+A general scramble for plates and cups followed; then a raid on the
+ovens and coffee-pots and kettles; and inside of three minutes twenty
+men were crouching on the ground, each one supplied with beans, biscuits
+and beef--the finest the range produced. They ate and came back for
+more, and Bowles tried to follow their example; but breakfast at home
+had been served at a later hour, and it had not been served on the
+ground, either. However, he ate what he could and drank a pint of coffee
+that made him as brave as a lion. It was real range coffee, that had set
+on the grounds over night and been boiled for an hour in the morning. It
+was strong, and made him forget the cold; but just as he was beginning
+to feel like a man again silence fell on the crowd, and Henry Lee
+appeared.
+
+In his riding boots, and with a wooden-handled old Colt's in his shaps,
+Mr. Lee was a different creature from the little man that Bowles had
+whipsawed on the previous evening. He was a dominating man, and as he
+stood by the fire for a minute and waited for enough light to rope by,
+Mr. Bowles began to have his regrets. It is one thing to bully-rag a man
+on his front steps, and quite another to ride bronks on a cold morning.
+The memory of a man named Dunbar came over him, and he wondered if he
+had died in the morning, when his bones were brittle and cold. He
+remembered other things, including Dixie Lee, but without any positive
+inspiration; and he took a sneaking pleasure at last in the fact that
+Mr. Lee appeared to have forgotten all about him.
+
+But Henry Lee was not the man to let an Eastern tenderfoot run it over
+him, and just as he called for horses and started over toward the corral
+he said to Hardy Atkins:
+
+"Oh, Hardy, catch up that Dunbar horse and put this gentleman's saddle
+on him, will you?"
+
+He waved his hand toward Bowles, whose heart had just missed a beat, and
+pulled on a trim little glove.
+
+"What--Dunbar?" gasped the bronco-twister, startled out of his calm.
+
+"Yes," returned Lee quietly. "The gentleman claims he can ride."
+
+"Who--him?" demanded Atkins, pointing incredulously at the willowy
+Bowles.
+
+"Yes--him!" answered the cattleman firmly. "And after what he said to me
+last evening he's either got to ride Dunbar or own himself a
+coward--that's all."
+
+"Oh," responded the twister, relieved by the alternative; and with a
+wink at Buck and the rest of the crowd he went rollicking out to the
+corral. By the usual sort of telepathy Hardy Atkins had come to hate and
+despise Bowles quite as heartily as Bowles had learned to hate him, and
+the prospect of putting the Easterner up against Dunbar made his feet
+bounce off the ground. First he roped out his own mount and saddled him
+by the gate; then, as the slower men caught their horses and prepared
+for the work of the day, he leaned against the bars and pointed out the
+man-killer to Bowles, meanwhile edging in his little talk.
+
+"See that brown over there?" he queried, as Bowles stared breathlessly
+out over the sea of tossing heads. "No, here he is now--that wall-eyed
+devil with his hip knocked down--he got that when he rared over and
+killed Dunbar. Can't you see 'im? Right over that bald-faced sorrel!
+Yes, that hawse that limps behind!"
+
+At that moment some impetuous cowboy roped at his mount and the round
+corral became a raging maelstrom of rushing horses, thundering about in
+a circle and throwing the dirt twenty feet high; but as a counter
+movement checked the charge and the wind blew the dust away, the lanky
+form of the horse that killed Dunbar loomed up on the edge of the herd.
+He was a big, raw-boned brute, colored a sunburned, dusty brown, and a
+limp in his off hind leg gave him a slinking, stealthy air; but what
+impressed Bowles the most was the sinister look in his eyes. If ever a
+horse was a congenital criminal, Dunbar was the animal. His head was
+long and bony and bulging around the ears, and his eyes were sunk deep,
+like a rattlesnake's, and with a rattlesnake's baleful glare. But there
+was more than a snaky wildness in them: the wicked creature seemed to be
+meditating upon his awful past, and scheming greater crimes, until his
+haggard, watchful eyes were set in a fixed, brooding stare. He was a bad
+horse, old Dunbar, and Atkins was there to play him up.
+
+"You want to be careful not to hurt that hawse," he warned, as Bowles
+caught his breath and started. "The boss expects to git a thousand
+dollars fer him at the Cheyenne Rough-Riding Contest next summer. Now
+that old Steamboat is rode, and Teddy Roosevelt is busted, they's big
+money hangin' up fer a bad hawse. Got to have one, you know. It's fer
+the championship of the world, and if they don't git another man-killer
+they can't have no contest. I would've tried him myself, but he's too
+valuable. How do you ride--with yore stirrups tied? No? Well, I reckon
+you're right--likely to get caught and killed if he throws himself over
+back. You ain't down here fer a Wild West Show, are ye? Uh-huh, jest
+thought you might be--knowed you wasn't a puncher. Well, we'll saddle
+him up fer you now--if you say so!"
+
+He lingered significantly on the last words, and Henry Lee, who was
+standing near, half smiled; but there must have been some sporting blood
+back in the Bowles family somewhere, for Mr. Bowles merely murmured:
+
+"If you will, please!" and got his saddle.
+
+So there was nothing for Atkins to do but go in and try to catch Dunbar.
+The bronco-twister shook out his rope, glanced at the boss, glanced at
+him again, and dropped reluctantly into the corral. Hardy Atkins would
+rather have taken a whipping than put a saddle on Dunbar; but he was up
+against it now, so he lashed his loop out on the ground and advanced to
+make his throw. One by one the horses that had gathered about Dunbar ran
+off to the right or left, and as the old man-killer made his dash to
+escape the long rope shot out with a lightning swiftness and settled
+around his neck. The twister passed the rope behind him, sat back on it
+and dug his high heels into the ground; but the jerk was too much for
+his hand-grip, and before anyone could tail on behind he let go and
+turned the horse loose.
+
+Then, as the great whirlpool of frightened horses went charging around
+the corral, Buck Buchanan, the man with the bull-moose voice, hopped
+down and rushed to the center. Some one threw an extra rope to Hardy
+Atkins, and once more they closed in on the outlaw. But the horse that
+killed Dunbar was better than the two of them, and soon he had a second
+rope to trail. A third and a fourth man leaped in to join the conflict;
+and as they roped and ran and fought with Dunbar the remuda went crazy
+with excitement and threatened to break down the fence.
+
+"Put up them bars!" yelled Hardy Atkins, as a beautiful, dappled black
+made a balk to leap over the gate. "Now all on this rope, boys--snub him
+to that post--oh, hell!" The pistol-like report of a grass rope parting
+filled out the rest of the sentence. Then the bronco-twister came
+limping over to the gate where Bowles and Henry Lee were sitting,
+shaking the blood from a freshly barked knuckle.
+
+"We can't hold the blinkety-blank," he announced, gazing defiantly at
+the boss. "And what's the use, anyhow?" he demanded, petulantly. "They
+ain't a bronk in the remuda that can't throw this Englishman a mile! Of
+course, if you want us to take a day to it----"
+
+"Well, catch Wa-ha-lote, then!" snapped Mr. Lee. "And be quick about it!
+I've got something else to do, Mr. Bowles," he observed tartly, "besides
+saddle up man-killers for a man that can't sit a trotting-horse!"
+
+This was evidently an allusion to Mr. Bowles' way of putting the English
+on a jog-trot; but Bowles was too much interested to resent it. He was
+watching Hardy Atkins advancing on the dappled black that had tried to
+jump the bars.
+
+"Oh," he cried enthusiastically, "is that the horse you mean? Oh, isn't
+he a beautiful creature! It's so kind of you to make the change!"
+
+"Ye-es!" drawled Mr. Lee; and all the cowboys smiled. Next to Dunbar,
+Wa-ha-lote was the champion scrapper of the Bat Wing. There had been a
+day when he was gentle, but ever since a drunken Texas cowboy had ridden
+him with the spurs his views of life had changed. He had decided that no
+decent, self-respecting horse would stand for such treatment and, after
+piling a few adventurous bronco-busters, had settled down to a life of
+ease and plenty. The finest looking horse in the remuda, by all odds,
+was old Wa-ha-lote, the Water-dog. He was fat and shiny, and carried his
+tail straight up, like a banner; the yellow dapples, like the spots on a
+salamander's black hide--whence his Mexican name, Wa-ha-lote--were
+bright and plain in the sunlight; and he held his head up high as he
+ramped around the corral.
+
+The sun had come up over the San Ramon Mountains while Hardy Atkins was
+wrestling with Dunbar; it soared still higher while the boys caught
+Wa-ha-lote. But caught he was, and saddled, for the horse never lived
+that a bunch of Texas punchers cannot tie. It was hot work, with skinned
+knuckles and rope-burned hands to pay for it; but the hour of revenge
+was at hand, and they called for Bowles. A wild look was in every eye,
+and heaven only knows what would have happened had he refused; but the
+hot sun and the excitement had aroused Mr. Bowles from his calm, and he
+answered like a bridegroom. Perhaps a flash of white up by the big house
+added impetus to his feet; but, be that as it may, he slipped blithely
+through the bars and hurried out to his mount.
+
+"Oh, what a beautiful horse!" he cried, standing back to admire his
+lines. "Do you need that blinder on his eyes?"
+
+"What I say!" commented Atkins, ambiguously. "Now you pile on him and
+take this quirt, and when I push the blind up you holler and throw it
+into 'im. Are you ready?"
+
+"Just a moment!" murmured Bowles, and for the space of half a minute he
+stood patting old Water-dog's neck where he stood there, grim and
+waiting, his iron legs set like posts and every muscle aquiver. Then,
+with unexpected quickness, he swung lightly into the saddle and settled
+himself in the stirrups.
+
+"All right," he said. "Release him!"
+
+"Release him it is!" shouted Atkins, with brutal exulting. "Let 'im go,
+boys; and--_yee-pah_!"
+
+He raised the blind with a single jerk, leaped back, and warped
+Wa-ha-lote over the rump with a coil of rope. Other men did as much, or
+more; and Bowles did not forget to holler.
+
+"Get up, old fellow!" he shouted.
+
+As the lashes fell, Wa-ha-lote made one mighty plunge--and stopped.
+Then, as the crowd scattered, he shook out his mane and charged straight
+at the high, pole gate. A shout went up, and a cry of warning, and as
+the cowboys who draped the bars scrambled down to escape the crash
+Bowles was seen to lean forward; he struck with his quirt, and
+Wa-ha-lote vaulted the bars like a hunter. But even then he was not
+satisfied. Two panel gates stood between him and the open, and he took
+them both like a bird; then the dust rose up in his wake and the Bat
+Wing outfit stood goggle-eyed and blasphemous.
+
+"W'y, the blankety-blank!" crooned Hardy Atkins.
+
+"Too skeered to pitch!" lamented Buck.
+
+"You hit 'im too hard!" shouted Happy Jack.
+
+"But that feller kin ride!" put in Brigham stoutly.
+
+"Aw, listen to the Mormon-faced dastard!" raved Hardy Atkins; and as the
+conversation rose mountain high, the white dresses up on the hill
+fluttered back inside the house. But when Bowles came riding back on
+Wa-ha-lote not even the outraged Hardy could deny that the Bat Wing had
+a new hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE ROUND-UP
+
+
+It is an old saying that there is no combination or percentage known
+that can beat bull luck. Bowles was lucky; but he didn't know how lucky
+he was, never having seen a real bronk pitch. After Wa-ha-lote had had
+his run he changed his mind again and decided to be good, and when
+Bowles galloped him back to the ranch he was as gentle as a dog, and the
+top horse in the remuda. Even when Bowles started to rise to the trot
+the Water-dog was no more than badly puzzled.
+
+By this time the outfit was pouring out the gate on their way to the
+belated round-up, and all except the principals had decided to take it
+as a joke. To be sure, they had lost an hour's daylight, and broken a
+few throw-ropes; but the time was not absolutely lost. Bowles would soon
+draw a bronk that _would_ pitch, and then--oh, you English dude! They
+greeted him kindly, then, with the rough good-nature you read so much
+about, and as Bowles loosened up they saw he was an easy mark.
+
+"Say, pardner," said one, "you sure can jump the fences! Where'd you
+learn that--back at Coney Island?"
+
+"Coney Island nothin'!" retorted another. "W'y, Joe, you show your
+ignorance! This gentleman is from England--can't you see him ride?"
+
+"Well, I knowed all along he was goin' to ride Wa-ha-lote," observed a
+third, oracularly. "I could tell by the way he walked up to him. How's
+he goin', stranger--make a pretty good buggy-horse, wouldn't he?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" beamed Bowles. "That is, I presume he would. He is one of
+the best gaited animals I ever rode. A perfect riding horse! Really, I
+can't remember when I've enjoyed such a glorious gallop!"
+
+They crowded around him then, in an anxious, attentive cluster, still
+jabbing their horses with the spurs to keep up with Henry Lee but
+salting away his naive remarks for future reference.
+
+Henry Lee was just making some little gathers near the home ranch while
+he waited for his neighbors to send in their stray men for the big
+round-up, and as the conversation rattled on in the rear he headed
+straight for a range of hills to the south. An hour of hard riding
+followed, and then, as they began to encounter cattle, he told off men
+by ones and twos to drive them in to the cutting ground. Hardy Atkins
+took another bunch of men and rode for a distant point, and soon the
+whole outfit was strung out in a great circle that closed in slowly upon
+a lonely windmill that stood at the base of the hills.
+
+As no one gave him orders, Bowles tagged along for a while and then
+threw in with Brigham, hoping to imbibe some much-needed information
+about the cow business from him; but a slow, brooding silence had come
+over that son of the desert and he confined his remarks to few words.
+
+"Don't crowd the cattle," he said; "and don't chase 'em. They's nothin'
+to it--jest watch the other hands."
+
+He mogged along glumly then, spitting tobacco and looking wise whenever
+Bowles made effusive remarks; and soon the spirit of the wide places
+took hold of the impressionable Easterner and taught him to be still.
+The sun was shining gloriously now, and the air was like new wine; he
+had conquered Wa-ha-lote, and won a job on the ranch; yet, even as the
+hot blood coursed in his veins and his heart leaped for joy, the solemn
+silence of burly Brigham exhorted him to peace. Nay, more than that, it
+set up uneasy questionings in his mind and made him ponder upon what he
+had said. Perhaps he had spoken foolishly in the first flush of his
+victory; he might even have laid himself open to future gibes and jests,
+branding himself for a tenderfoot with every word he said.
+
+Yes, indeed; perhaps he had. At any rate, the first words he heard as
+they neared the cutting-grounds were indicative of the fact.
+
+"Hey, Bill!" roared Buck Buchanan, wafting his bull voice across the
+herd. "Release that Bar X cow!"
+
+"Beg pahdon?" replied Bill, holding his hand behind his ear; and then
+there was a rumble of Homeric laughter that left Bowles hot with shame.
+
+"Hey, Buck!" echoed Happy Jack, reining his horse out to turn back an
+ambling steer; and while all hands watched him eagerly he struck into a
+rough trot across the plain. Then, holding out his elbows in a manner
+that he supposed to be English, he bobbed higher and higher at every
+jump until he fell face forward on his horse's neck, and the cowboys
+whooped for joy. Bowles was able to laugh at this joke, and he tried to
+do it graciously; but the sudden wave of good manners and faultless
+grammar which swept over the crowd left him heated and mad clear
+through. Any dreams he might have cherished of becoming the little tin
+hero of the cow country were shattered beyond repair, and he saw the
+American cowboy as he really is--a very frail and human creature, who
+scorns all things new and foreign, and particularly objects to Eastern
+tenderfeet who try to beat him at his own game.
+
+If Bowles had been piled in the dirt by his first mount and come limping
+forth with a grin, he would have won a corralful of friends by his grit;
+as it was, he had ridden Wa-ha-lote, a horse supposed to be a rank
+outlaw, and the cowboys were quick to resent it. Even the loyal Brigham
+had turned against him, looking on with a cynical smile as he saw him
+mocked; and as for Henry Lee, he could not even get near him. Scorn and
+anger and a patrician aloofness swept over Bowles' countenance by turns,
+and then he took Brigham's unspoken counsel and let the heathen rage. It
+was hard on his pride, but he schooled himself to endure it; and as cant
+phrase after cant phrase came back at him and he realized how loosely he
+had talked he decided in the future to keep his mouth shut. So far, at
+least, he had caught the great spirit of the West.
+
+But now for the first time there was spread out before his eyes the
+shifting drama of the cow country, and he could not resist its appeal.
+On the edge of a great plain and within sight of jagged rock-ribbed
+mountains he beheld the herd of lowing cattle, the remuda of spare
+horses, the dashing cowboys, the fire with its heating irons, and all
+the changing scenes that go to make up a Western branding. For a spell
+the herd stood still while mothers sought out their calves and restless
+bulls plowed in and out; then when the clamor and blatting had lulled,
+and all hands had got a drink and made a change of horses, a pair of
+ropers rode into the herd, marking down each cow and calf and making
+sure they were mother and offspring. At last, when Henry Lee and his
+neighbors' stray men were satisfied, the ropers shook out their loops,
+crowded in on some unbranded calf and flipped the noose over its head.
+Like automatons, the quick-stepping little cutting ponies whirled and
+started for the fire, dragging the calves behind them by neck or legs or
+feet. Any way the rope fell was good enough for the cowboys, and the
+ponies came in on the lope.
+
+Behind the calf pranced its frantic mother, head down and smelling its
+hide, and a pair of cowboys stationed for that purpose rode in and
+turned her back. Then the flankers rushed out and caught the rope, and
+the strong member seized the calf by its neck and flank and with an
+upward boost of the knees raised its feet from the ground and threw it
+flat on its side. One held up its head, the other the hind legs, and in
+a flash the ear-markers and hot-iron men were upon it, to give it a
+brand for life.
+
+"Bat Wing!" called the dragger-up, giving the mother's brand. There was
+a blat, a puff of white smoke, and the calf was turned back to his
+"Mammy." That was the process, very simple to the cowboy and entirely
+devoid of any suggestion of pain; but to Bowles it seemed rather brutal,
+and he went back to help hold the herd.
+
+As one roper after the other pursued his calf through the throng, or
+chased it over the plain while he made wild and ineffectual throws, the
+great herd milled and moved and shifted like a thing of life. At a
+distance of a hundred feet or more apart a circle of careless punchers
+sat their mounts, nominally engaged in holding the herd but mostly
+loafing on the job or talking it over in pairs. To Bowles it seemed that
+they were very negligent indeed, letting cows walk out which could have
+been turned back by the flip of a rope, and then spurring furiously
+after them as they made a break for the hills. If a calf which the
+ropers had failed to catch came dashing by, one guard, or even two,
+might leave his place to join in a mad pursuit, meanwhile leaving Bowles
+and Wa-ha-lote to patrol the entire flank of the herd. To be sure, he
+liked to do it; but their system seemed very poor to him, though he did
+not venture to say so.
+
+Meanwhile, with futile pursuits and monotonous waits, the branding
+dragged slowly along, and suddenly Bowles realized he was hungry. He
+looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly noon, but he could
+perceive no symptoms of dinner. He regretted now the insufficient
+breakfast which he had eaten, remembering with a shade of envy the
+primitive appetite which had enabled the others to bolt beefsteaks like
+ravening wolves; also, he resolved to put a biscuit in his pocket the
+next time he rode out on the circle. But this availed him nothing in his
+extremity, and as the others sought to assuage their pangs with
+brown-paper cigarettes he almost regretted the freak of nicety which had
+kept him from learning to smoke. It was noon now--seven hours since
+breakfast--and just as he was about to make some guarded inquiries of
+Brigham the work of branding ceased. The branders, their faces grimed
+and sweaty and their hands caked with blood, pulled on their heavy shaps
+and came riding up to the herd; but not to cry: "Release them!"
+
+Odious as these words had become to Bowles, they would have sounded good
+under the circumstances; but there was more work yet to come. Driving a
+bunch of old cows to one side for a "hold-up," Henry Lee and his
+strenuous assistants began cutting out dogie calves. Everything over a
+year old was fated to become a feeder and, while mothers bellowed and
+their offspring protested, Hardy Atkins and the best of the cowhands
+hazed the calves into the hold-up herd. It was a long and tedious
+operation, involving numerous wearisome chases after calves that wanted
+their mothers; and when at last it was done and the main herd was
+released, behold, a lot of cows and undesirables had to be cut back from
+the hold-up herd. Then the dogies had to be separated into yearlings and
+"twos"; and when Bowles was about ready to drop off his horse from
+weakness Henry Lee detailed a bunch of unfortunates to drive up the
+calves, and turned his pony toward home. To him it was just a little
+gather while the neighbors were sending in their men; but to Bowles it
+combined the extreme hardships of a round-up with the rigors of a forty
+days' fast.
+
+In a way it was all Bowles' fault, too, for he had kept the whole outfit
+waiting while he made a bluff at riding Dunbar. His resolution to keep
+his mouth shut stood him in good stead now, for a hungry man is a wolf
+and will fight if you say a word. There were no gay quips and gags now,
+no English riding and classic quotations; every man threw the spurs into
+his horse and started on a run for camp. Wa-ha-lote pulled at the bit a
+time or two at this, and Bowles did not try to restrain him; he broke
+into a gallop, free and sweeping as the wind, and the tired cutting
+horses fell behind; then as the ranch showed up in the distance he
+settled down to a tireless lope, eating up the hurrying miles until
+Bowles could have hugged him for joy.
+
+Here was a horse of a thousand--this black, named in an alien tongue
+Wa-ha-lote--and he longed as he rode into the ranch to give him some
+token of friendship--a lump of sugar, or whatever these desert horses
+liked best to eat--in order to hold his regard. So he trotted over to
+the cook's wagon, being extremely careful not to bob, and asked Gloomy
+Gus for a lump of sugar. Now Gus, as it happened, was in another bad
+humor, due to the boys' being an hour or so late, and to a second matter
+of which Bowles knew nothing; and he did not even so much as vouchsafe
+an answer to his request.
+
+"I beg your pardon," began Bowles again, when it was evident he was not
+going to get the sugar. "Perhaps you will give me a biscuit, then. You
+see," he explained rather shamefacedly, "I am riding this horse for the
+first time, and he has been so gentle I wanted to give him something.
+Any little thing, you know, and I shall be glad to pay for it----"
+
+"I am not cookin' fer hawses!" observed Gloomy Gus; but at the same time
+he glanced apprehensively toward a long pile of cord-wood which flanked
+his fire to the south; and as if to verify his suspicions a summer hat
+appeared from behind the tiers of crooked juniper and a lady stepped
+into view. She was a very beautiful lady, middle-aged and with haunting
+brown eyes; and the moment she turned them upon Bowles he knew she was
+Dixie Lee's mother. Not that she looked so much like the elusive Dixie
+May, but she had the same way with her eyes--and, besides that, she was
+very contained and quiet, and looked as if she came from the East. She
+gazed at him for a moment with a kind, motherly air--as if she had heard
+all he said--and addressed herself to the cook.
+
+"Well, really, Gus," she began, speaking in the low-pitched tones of the
+drawing-room, "I can't imagine what happens to those eggs. I have over
+forty hens, and surely they lay more than seven eggs a day. There's one
+nest, away in there, but----"
+
+"Well, _I_ ain't took none," grumbled Gus, turning sulkily to his pots
+and kettles; "that's all I got to say."
+
+"Pardon me," broke in Bowles, swinging lightly down from his horse and
+standing hat in hand, "perhaps I could creep in and----" He smiled as he
+had smiled at the ladies who attended the Wordsworth Society, and Mrs.
+Lee glanced at him approvingly.
+
+"Oh, don't trouble yourself," she said politely. "If it were humanly
+possible to reach them, I am sure they would be gone by now. I didn't
+mean to blame you at all, Mr. Mosby,"--this to the cook--"but, really, I
+was trying to save enough eggs to make the boys a cake."
+
+A wave of indignation swept over Bowles. He remembered those graceless
+"boys" roasting eggs by the fire at night, and he thought how little
+they deserved her kindness; but all he did was to murmur his
+appreciation. At this the lady looked at him again, like one who knows
+her own kind, and her voice was very pleasant as she said:
+
+"Oh, you are the young man that rode Wa-ha-lote this morning, aren't
+you? Ah, he is such a beautiful horse!" She came over and stroked his
+neck thoughtfully while Bowles stood by his head and smiled. "Don't you
+know," she said, "I have always claimed that a horse could be conquered
+by kindness. And I'm so glad!" she murmured, with a confidential touch
+of the hand. "Won't you come up to the house, and I'll give you that
+lump of sugar."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE QUEEN AT HOME
+
+
+The Bat Wing ranch, with its big white house on the hill, its whirling
+windmill, its tank that spread out like a lake and gleamed like liquid
+silver, its pole corrals, its adobe houses half shaded by wind-tossed
+cottonwoods, was one of the most sightly in Arizona. The yellow-white
+sheen of the bunch grass made the distance seem fair and inviting; at
+sunset the saw-toothed summits of the Tortugas changed to blues and
+purples and mysterious, cañon-deep black; the heavy bunches of sacaton
+out in the horse pasture gleamed white in the evening glow. Many riders
+passed by that way, rigged out in the finery of their kind, and most of
+them took it all in--and yet, at times, the place looked kind of bare
+and tame.
+
+Bowles was a stranger to those parts and he admired the landscape
+mightily; but to him too it seemed a little bare. It needed a dash of
+color, a vigorous girlish figure in the foreground, to give it the last
+vivid touch. But the queen, of course, must be humored--let the picture
+wait! So Bowles waited, along with the rest of the bunch, and in the
+evening while they were at their supper the Queen of the Bat Wing came.
+At the Wordsworth Society she had been stunningly gowned in a creation
+which Bowles would not soon forget; on the train she had worn a tailored
+traveling dress, very severe and becoming, the only note of defiance
+being in the hat, which was her Western sombrero with a veil to take off
+the curse. But now the trimming was gone, and a silver-buckled,
+horsehair band took its place. Dixie May was back on her own range and
+she wore what clothes she pleased!
+
+First there was the hat, a trim, fifteen-dollar Stetson held on by a
+strap that lapped behind; then a white shirt-waist to supply the touch
+of color; a divided skirt of golden-brown corduroy; and high-heeled
+cowboy boots, very tiny, and supplied with silver-mounted spurs, ornate
+with Mexican conchos. She wore a quirt on her wrist, and her hair in
+Indian braids, and a fine coat of newly acquired tan on her cheeks.
+
+A silence fell on the squatting punchers as she ran lightly down from
+the house; one or two of them ducked out of sight as she passed through
+the gate, but the rest sat motionless, stoically feeding themselves with
+their knives, and waiting for the queen to pass. Only Bowles, the man
+from the East, rose up and took off his hat; but Dixie Lee remembered
+her promise, and never so much as looked at him.
+
+[Illustration: "ONLY BOWLES, THE MAN FROM THE EAST, ROSE AND TOOK OFF
+HIS HAT"]
+
+"Hello, Brig," she said, singling out the blushing Brigham for a teasing
+grin. "'Evening, Mr. Mosby. Say, Maw sent me down to look for some
+eggs--she wants to make a cake for these worthless punchers before she
+invites 'em up to hear the phonograph."
+
+"Well, well, Miss Dix," responded the cook, shuffling and ill at ease.
+"I'm afraid yore maw is goin' to be disapp'inted. If you can find any
+eggs around here, you're welcome to 'em. _I_ ain't got none hid
+out--that's all I'll say."
+
+"Oh, I know where they go to, Mr. Mosby," replied Dixie Lee, showing her
+white teeth in a knowing smile. "If a man will suck eggs, he'll
+steal--you know that saying yourself--and I can tell by the shells
+around the fire here what's going on o' nights."
+
+"Oh, that's that big fat Brigham Clark!" spoke up Hardy Atkins. "You
+don't want to judge the whole outfit by _him_!"
+
+At this bare-faced libel Bowles cleared his throat to speak. He had
+noticed particularly on the evening before that the eggs were brought in
+by Happy Jack and Hardy Atkins himself; but before he could enter a
+protest a general rumble of laughter set him back to a thinking part.
+
+"Yes, sir!" observed Buck Buchanan, speaking to the world at large.
+"That feller sucks aigs worse'n a setter pup."
+
+"An' he don't deny it none, neither," commented Happy Jack, as poor
+Brigham blushed deeper and hung his head.
+
+"Jest born that way, I reckon," remarked Poker-face in a tone of pity;
+and then the whole outfit broke into a whoop of laughter. It was a new
+form of jesting to Bowles, and he retired to the shelter of the
+wood-pile. A sudden gloom had come over his soul, and it even affected
+his appetite, whetted keen by the cold, thin air. Of course, Dixie Lee
+had told him she would do so, but it seemed rather heartless not to look
+at him. He sat down with his back against the jagged juniper stubs and
+listened sullenly, while the punchers chuckled in front of him and
+continued to eat with their knives.
+
+"Aw, Brig's jest bashful, that's all," explained some simple-minded
+joker, after every one else had had his say; and as his hollow laughter
+rose up, Bowles wondered dimly why Brigham did not retort. The evening
+before, when he was telling stories around the fire, he had returned a
+Roland for an Oliver until even Hardy Atkins had been content to quit;
+but now he confined himself to self-conscious mutterings and
+exhortations to shut up. Perhaps the simple-minded joker was right--poor
+Brigham was bashful.
+
+But Dixie Lee had come down to get some eggs and she did not allow camp
+persiflage to divert her from her purpose.
+
+"Well, say," she said, getting up from the cook's private seat, "I came
+down to hunt for eggs--who wants to help me?"
+
+"That's where I shine!" cried Hardy Atkins, throwing his tin plate into
+the washtub with a great clatter. "They's a nest around hyer in the
+wood-pile!"
+
+He capered around the end of the wood-pile, and soon Bowles could hear
+him panting as he forced his way in between the crooked sticks.
+
+"Hyer they are!" he shouted at last. "I got a whole hatful--somebody
+pull me out by the laig!"
+
+There was a ripple of high-pitched laughter from Dixie Lee, an interval
+in which Bowles cursed his fate most heartily, and then a frantic outcry
+from Hardy:
+
+"Hey, there, don't pull so fast! You Dix, you'll break my aigs! Well,
+laugh, then, doggone it! Now see what you went and done!"
+
+A general shout of laughter followed, and Hardy Atkins, his lips pouted
+out to play the fool, and his eyes rolling to catch their laughter, came
+ambling around the wood-pile with a hat that looked like an amateur
+conjurer's after the celebrated egg trick. But there were enough whole
+ones left to make a cake, and Happy Jack came galloping in with a hatful
+from his own private cache; so everybody laughed, though Brigham looked
+on sourly enough. A rapid fire of barbed jests followed; then, with her
+two admirers behind her and the others gazing dumbly on, Dixie Lee ran
+lightly back to the house, and Bowles had had his first lookin on ranch
+society. It did not look so good to him, either, and yet--well, just as
+Dixie May turned away she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
+To be sure, it was one of Hardy Atkins' raw jokes at which she was
+laughing, but somehow a golden glow crept into the sunset, and ranch
+society did not seem so bad.
+
+Five minutes later Dixie Lee was down at the corral bridling a
+white-faced roan, and soon, with Happy Jack for an escort, she was
+galloping away to the east where, like glowworms in the dusk, the
+scattered lights of settlers' houses showed the first beginnings of a
+neighborhood. The phonograph was going to play in the big house that
+evening, and all the "nesters" were invited.
+
+No one had been more outraged than Henry Lee when the first nesters came
+in on his range; but latterly he had come to regard them tolerantly as
+poor, misguided creatures, slightly touched in the head on the subject
+of high-and-dry farming. Having seen a few hundred of them starve out
+and move on, he had accepted them as a necessary evil, and deemed it no
+more than right, if the women-folks wanted to invite them, to ask the
+few nearest ones to the house and help them forget their misery. So the
+whole-souled Dixie May was off to call in the company while the cowboys
+were scraping their beards off and dolling up for the dance.
+
+It was Saturday night, as a matter of fact, and though all days are
+alike to a puncher his evenings are his own around the ranch. One by one
+the socially backward and inept caught the fever and began to search
+their war-bags for silk handkerchiefs and clean shirts. Only Brigham
+remained recalcitrant, and no argument could induce him to shave.
+
+"I was on the wrangle last night," he complained, as the forehanded ones
+came back to argue the matter, "and I'm short on my sleep. Say, lemme
+be, can't ye--what difference does it make to you fellers, anyway? They
+won't be girls enough to go around, nohow!"
+
+"Well, come up and hear the music," urged the Bar Seven stray man, who
+wanted him for company.
+
+"Mrs. Lee invited you, Brig," reminded Gloomy Gus, who believed that
+every man should do his duty.
+
+"Aw, it's too late to do anything now," grumbled Brigham, beginning at
+last to weaken. "And my beard is a fright, too!"
+
+"Soak it in hot water, then!" cried Bar Seven enthusiastically. "Come
+on, fellers; let's make 'im do it! It ain't right--a nice lady like Mrs.
+Lee! She'll think you're 'shamed because you done stole them aigs!"
+
+"I did not!" denied Brigham hotly.
+
+"Well, come along, then!" countered Bar Seven triumphantly, "or the boys
+will be tellin' everybody!"
+
+So the last unwilling victim was cajoled into going, and at a cheery
+summons from Dixie May they marched up the hill in a body. It was too
+early yet for the nester girls to appear, and while they were waiting
+for the dance to begin the twenty or more punchers wedged into the big
+front room and settled down to hear the phonograph. A cattle ranch
+without a phonograph nowadays is as rare as a cow outfit without a
+mouth-organ; but the Lees had a fine one, that would play for dances on
+a scratch, and a rack piled high with classic records. Mrs. Lee sat
+beside it, and after welcoming the self-conscious cowboys she asked them
+what they would have.
+
+"The barnyard one!" somebody called; and as the cow mooed, the pig
+squealed, and the hired girl called the chickens, the cowboys laughed
+and forgot their feet. Then Caruso sang a high one, caught his breath
+and expired, and the company shifted in their seats. That was not
+exactly their style.
+
+"What's the matter with the dog fight?" cried a voice from the corner;
+and Mrs. Lee, who had dreams of elevating their taste, sat undecided,
+with the sextet from _Lucia_ in her hand.
+
+"Perhaps you would like the _Anvil Chorus_," she suggested by way of a
+concession.
+
+"No, the dog fight!" clamored Hardy Atkins from the same corner. Then,
+quoting from the well-known favorite, he inquired in up-stage Irish:
+"'Will some sport kindly let Mr. Ho-ogan, the time-keeper, hold his
+watch?'"
+
+"'Faith,'" broke in Happy Jack, continuing the selection, "'an' who will
+hold Ho-ogan, then--har, har, har, har, har!'"
+
+So contagious was the spell of this laughter that there was nothing for
+it but to put on the record, which gave a dog fight in Harlem from the
+time the bets were made till the spotted dog licked and the place was
+raided by the police. Not very elevating, to be sure, but awfully
+popular, and calling for more of the same. Mrs. Lee sighed wearily and
+laid the sextet aside; then, with quick decision, she resigned her place
+to Dixie May and retired to a seat by the door--and, as luck would have
+it, she sat down next to Bowles.
+
+"Won't you take my chair?" he said, rising with all the gallantry of his
+kind. "I enjoyed that _Donna e Mobile_ of Caruso's so much!"
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Lee, beaming with pleasure, "you know it, then! And do
+you care for it, too?"
+
+"Very much!" replied Bowles, falling back into the familiar formula of
+polite conversation; and by the time the phonograph had started up on
+"Casey Jones" they were deep in a discussion of classic music. As often
+happens in good society, they discovered a wonderful similarity in their
+likes and dislikes; and by the time the nester girls began to arrive and
+the dance started up on the gallery, Bowles was very popular in the big
+house--that is, as far as the hostess was concerned.
+
+But the climax of the evening came at the close of the dance, just as
+Mr. Bowles was taking his leave.
+
+"Well, good-night, Mrs. Lee," he murmured as he stood in the half light
+of the porch. "It was so kind of you to invite us up."
+
+He paused then with the rest of his politenesses unsaid, for Dixie Lee
+was coming down the hall.
+
+"I can't say how much I have enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Bowles,"
+returned the lady, offering him her hand. "It takes me back to my
+girlhood days, when music was the breath of my life. Perhaps----Oh,
+Dixie, have you met Mr. Bowles?"
+
+There was silence for a moment as their eyes met across the abyss, hers
+stern and forbidding, his smiling and conciliatory; and then Dixie bowed
+very stiffly.
+
+"Why, not that I remember," she replied, with a militant toss of the
+head.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Lee," observed Mr. Bowles, bowing formally as he
+received his congé. "So glad to make your acquaintance!" And, murmuring
+other maddening phrases, he bowed himself out the door, leaving Dixie
+Lee to explain the feud in any way she chose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A COWBOY'S LIFE
+
+
+As the name of the Deity, to a cowboy, means little more than a word to
+swear by, so the holy Sabbath is forgotten as a day of rest. Not that
+the hard-riding puncher would not rest if he got the chance, but the
+traditions of the cow business make no allowances for godliness and
+ease. For forty dollars and found, the round-up hand is expected to work
+every day in the month, and take all his Sundays in a bunch when the
+boss writes out his time. From daylight to dark are his hours of labor,
+with horse wrangling and night-guard to boot; and yet there are men of
+elegance and leisure who try to crush in on the job.
+
+Mr. Bowles rolled into bed a perfect gentleman, and something of a
+knight-errant as well; but when Gloomy Gus gave vent to his shrill
+morning call he turned in his blankets and muttered. As the dishpan
+yammered and clashed discordantly he shuddered like a craven; and when
+Gus finally kicked open the door he could have cursed like any
+cow-puncher. It was a dreary life he had elected to follow, a life of
+drudgery, hardship, and discomfort, and with no compensating element but
+the danger of getting killed. And all for the sake of a girl who never
+had met him before!
+
+Bowles crawled out very slowly and stood shivering by the fire,
+marveling at the iron endurance of Gloomy Gus, and understanding his
+gloom. Never again, he resolved, as he drank a pint of hot coffee, never
+again would he address Mr. Mosby in aught but terms of respect. A man
+who could stand his life and still wear the mantle of self-restraint was
+worthy of a place among the stoics. And to get up alone--alone and of
+his own volition--at three-thirty and four of the morning! It was a task
+to give a Spartan pause and win an enduring fame among the gods. A large
+humility came over Bowles as he contemplated the rough men about him and
+observed how uncomplainingly they accepted their lot. And they had been
+at the work for months and years--it was the second day for him!
+
+The cook beat on his pan, and at the thought of the long ride before him
+Bowles did his best to eat--to eat heartily, ravenously, to gorge
+himself full of meat against the hours of hunger to come; and, passing
+up the three-tined steel fork, he went to it with his knife and spoon.
+
+"You make the finest biscuits I have ever eaten, Mr. Mosby," he observed
+by way of apology as he slipped one into his pocket; and the sleep-weary
+eyes of the cook lighted up for a moment before he summoned his cynical
+smile.
+
+"That's what they all say--when they're hungry," he remarked. "Then when
+they've et a plenty they throw 'em in the dirt."
+
+He waved his hand at a circle of white spots that lay just outside the
+firelight, and turned to begin his dishwashing. Then, seeing that Mr.
+Bowles was still interested, he dilated on his troubles.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said; "a cowboy is jest naturally wasteful--if he wasn't,
+he wouldn't be a cowboy. He'll take a whole biscuit and eat half of it
+and throw the other half away. There you see 'em out there, jest like I
+been seein' 'em fer forty years and more. It's in the blood. A cowboy
+wastes his grub, he wastes his terbakker, he wastes his money. He wastes
+cows, and hawses--an' he wastes his life. I got my opinion of a man that
+will work like a dog fer forty dollars a month. These hyer boys know
+what I think of 'em."
+
+The cowboys grinned sheepishly and backed up nearer the fire. It was
+still too dark to rope, and they were waiting for Henry Lee; and the
+cold starlight made them solemn. When the sun came up and they got a
+horse between their knees they would laugh old Gus to scorn; now they
+listened to him soberly in lieu of sprightlier conversation.
+
+"And me," continued Gloomy Gus, as he sensed the heavy silence, "I work
+harder than any of 'em. The mornin' star don't catch me in bed--no, sir!
+Not after half-past three. I got to git up then and mix my bread. And
+come night time, after my long day's work, I got to set my dough. But I
+git paid fer it--eighty dollars a month--and you can have the job
+to-morrer."
+
+He paused again, as if to emphasize the lack of bidders, and then went
+deftly about his task.
+
+"No, sir," he said; "you don't see no one strikin' fer the job of cook.
+That's hard work, that is. These boys all want to sit on a hawse and see
+the world go by."
+
+Once more the heavy silence fell upon them, and Brigham picked up a
+towel and began to wipe the dishes.
+
+"Goin' out to-day?" he inquired, as the boys began to straggle toward
+the corral.
+
+"That's the word!" returned the cook. "Dinner at the north well, and
+back ag'in fer supper. Pack up and unpack, and pack ag'in at the well.
+Then cook a dinner and hook up the hawses, and cook some more at the
+home. Ef Henry Lee don't git me a flunky pretty soon I'm shore goin' to
+up and quit."
+
+He glanced significantly at Bowles as he finished this last remark, but
+Brigham shook his head.
+
+"I seen that Pringle kid come in yisterday," he said. "Mebbe you could
+git to have him."
+
+That closed the conversation, and Bowles moved away. He was sorry for
+Mr. Mosby, very sorry; but not sorry enough to take a job as official
+dishwasher. Somehow all the world seemed to be in a conspiracy to make
+him flunky to the cook.
+
+He hurried over to the corral, where the roping was going on, and as he
+neared the gate he met the boss coming out. On the previous day Mr. Lee
+had seemed a little under the dominance of his feelings, but this
+morning he was strictly business.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," he said, "I'll keep my word with you and take you on for a
+puncher. Do your work and keep off Dunbar, and I'll try to get along
+with you--otherwise you get your time. Now come on back and I'll cut you
+out a mount."
+
+He tied his own horse to a post, and swung up on the corral fence.
+
+"You get two gentle horses and five bronks," he continued; "and I'll
+call Wa-ha-lote a bronk."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" began Bowles; but the boss checked him right there.
+
+"You've got nothing to thank me for, young man," he said. "I'd rather
+lose a top hand any time than take on a tenderfoot, so don't think for a
+minute that I'm stuck on you. Passed my word, that's all--and Wa-ha-lote
+forgot to buck. Now you see that gray over there--the one with the
+saddle-marks on his back--that's one of 'em--he's gentle. See this
+little sorrel, right close--that's Scrambled Eggs--he's a bronk. Then
+you can have that red roan over there for a night horse, and I'll cut
+you out some more bronks bymeby. You ride old Gray and the roan for a
+while--understand? And I employ a twister to break my wild stock, so
+keep off of them bronks--if--you--please."
+
+He added this last as if he really meant it, and left Bowles to wonder
+at his emphasis--but not for long. The times called for action. He was a
+puncher now, and it was necessary for him to lasso his mount. So,
+shaking out his new rope, which snarled and crawled in a most
+disconcerting fashion, the new cowboy dropped down into the corral,
+while everybody who could conveniently do so stepped up and looked over
+the fence. But Bowles had had a few days' training at the hands of Jim
+Scrimsher, the livery-stable keeper and all-round horse trader and
+confidence man at Chula Vista, and he shook out a fairly good loop.
+Then, swinging it above his head, he advanced upon the gray, who
+promptly put the whole herd between them, and raced along next the
+fence. The roan came along just then and Bowles made a cast at him and
+caught two others, who instantly made away with his rope.
+
+A yell went up from along the top of the fence; and with many shouts of
+encouragement and veiled derision, they threw him a new rope. This was a
+worn one and capable of dexterous handling, and, with a set smile on his
+face, Bowles shook out a big loop and advanced cautiously upon the roan.
+By this time he, too, had read the hypnotic message of the eye, and had
+crowded well in behind the main herd, which was dashing around the
+corral with ever-increasing speed. The slashing rope-work of the old
+hands had already left the horse herd nervous and flighty, and something
+about the way Bowles whirled his wide-flung loop seemed to drive them
+into a frenzy. A shout of warning went up, and then another, and then,
+as Wa-ha-lote made another balk at the gate, Hardy Atkins rushed out
+through the cloud of dirt and signaled him to stop.
+
+"What do you want to do?" he yelled. "Break down the fence?"
+
+He edged in on the leaders as he spoke and soon brought them to a halt;
+then, with his eyes on another horse, he stepped in close, dragging his
+loop, until suddenly he whipped it over the old gray's head and jerked
+him out of the herd.
+
+"Here's yore hawse," he said, handing him over the rope's end. "And,
+say, if you can't rope without swingin' a Mother Hubbard, jest let me
+ketch yore hawse!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Bowles.
+
+"Oh, nawthin'," sneered the bronco-twister, "only it skeers 'em to
+death--that's all. Old Henry generally gives a man his time fer swingin'
+his loop in the corral."
+
+Bowles followed along after him, flushed and downcast over his mistake;
+and as the others saddled their prancing bronks and went pitching and
+plunging around the horse lot he threw his saddle on the old,
+moss-backed gray and watched them with a wholesome awe. Horse after
+horse, as his rider hooked the stirrup, flew back or kicked like a
+flash. Some bucked the saddles off and had to be mastered by brute
+force. Here it was that the green-eyed Hardy Atkins, that long and
+lissom twister whom he so heartily despised, stood out like a riding
+king among the men. If a horse would not stand, he held it by the ears;
+if it bucked its saddle off, he seized an ear in his teeth, and hung on
+like a bulldog until the girths were cinched; and then, if the rider but
+said the word, he topped it off in his place. And all with such a
+tigerish swing, such a wild and masterful certitude, that even Bowles
+could not but secretly admire him.
+
+It was nearing the first of April, when the wagon went out on the
+round-up, and the boys were topping off their mounts in order to gentle
+them for the spring work. Shrill yells and whoops went up as man after
+man uncocked his bronk; and then, as the procession filed out the gate,
+Hardy Atkins swung up on his own and went whipping and plunging after
+them. This was the big event of the day, and all hands craned their
+necks to view it; but the real spectators were up by the big white
+house, where Dixie Lee and her mother stood watching.
+
+"Good boy, Hardy!" cried Dixie May, waving her hat to flag him. "Stay
+with him, Hardy!" And while the wild brute bucked and grunted beneath
+the steady jab of the spurs his rider raised a slender hand and waved it
+in salute. Bowles came dragging after him, sitting up very straight on
+old Gray; but nobody gave him a gay salute or so much as noticed him
+pass. Big Snake, the outlaw, was sun-fishing and doing buck-jumps, and
+every eye was upon the gallant rider who sat him so limber and
+free--Hardy Atkins, bronco-twister, and top cowboy at the Bat Wing.
+
+"Pitch, then, you bastard," he was shouting. "Buck, you wild, woolly
+wolf--I'll put a hat on you!"
+
+Bowles did not know what a "hat" was as he rode along out the gate, but
+when the cattle were thrown together and the wrangler brought up the
+spare horses, he knew. Walking across the brushy flat came Hardy Atkins,
+leading the worn and whip-marked Snake at a slow walk; and as he drew
+near, Bowles saw the "hat," a great, puffed-up swelling, raw and bloody,
+where the spur had jabbed his side. And there was a look in the outlaw's
+haggard eye that reminded him of old Dunbar--a wild, homicidal stare,
+yet tragic with fear and pain. As he reached the horse herd the twister
+looked back and regarded his mount intently; then very cautiously he
+worked up to his head and caught him by the cheek-strap.
+
+"Don't you bite me, you devil," he threatened as the Snake showed all
+his teeth, "or I'll beat yore brains out with this quirt!"
+
+The Big Snake winced and crooked his neck sullenly; then, as the twister
+snapped up the stirrup and uncinched the saddle with his free hand, he
+sighed and hung his head. With a deft jerk the puncher stripped off
+saddle and blanket; he reached up between his ears and laid hold of the
+headstall, then with a heave he tore off the bridle and landed his boot
+in the Snake's ribs.
+
+"Git, you owl-headed old skate!" he yelled; and the Snake cow-kicked at
+him like a flash of light.
+
+"Hah!" laughed the twister, stepping dexterously aside; and, swinging
+the bridle as he ducked, he brought the heavy reins down across his
+mount's rump. Again there was a flash of light as the Snake lashed out
+from behind; and then he limped off to one side, his eyes glowing with
+impotent rage and hate. Bowles looked at him as he lay wearily down in
+the sand, and then at the man who had conquered him, and a glow crept
+into his own eyes--a glow very much like the Big Snake's. He had entered
+a new world, with a different standard of courage and hardihood, and the
+first look at it frightened and awed him. But though he knew he could
+not meet its standards nor measure up to its tests, he scorned the man
+who could, and hated him for his rude strength--and his sympathy went
+out to Big Snake, the outlaw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+REDUCED TO THE RANKS
+
+
+The last place in the world for a humanitarian is around a cow camp, for
+everything there seems to savor of cruelty and blood. The only
+anti-cruelty-to-animals man who ever made a winning in the cattle
+business was good old Dr. Maverick, of Texas, who, when they made up the
+first brand book, swore he could not bring himself to cut an ear or burn
+a brand and craved the privilege of letting his cattle run unmarked. So,
+when it came to the round-up, the old doctor received his reward, for he
+claimed every maverick in the bunch and took them home for his own. This
+was a long time ago, in the age of myth and fable, and the doctor's herd
+has been sadly decimated since by rustlers and ruthless brand blotchers.
+A brand that can't be burned over is more precious than rubies now; and
+the bigger it is, the better.
+
+The Bat Wing was an old brand, dating back to some Mexican Manuel
+Ortega, or Mariano Ortiz, who had writ his initials large on the left
+hip of his steers, M above O, connected. With years the O had shrunk and
+the M spraddled out until it looked like a winged disk--and had taken on
+different names: Money-bug, from its resemblance to a dollar on the
+wing; Bat-out-o'-hell, from a similar frontier fancy; until finally it
+settled down to plain Bat Wing. But whatever else happened to the Bat
+Wing brand, the iron never got any smaller; in fact, the reason the M
+grew so big that it flew away with the O was because a calf's hip widens
+out at the top and if the whole space is securely covered there will be
+no room left for illicit alterations.
+
+This is all very interesting and romantic, of course, when taken by
+itself; but nobody stopped to explain it to Bowles, the humanitarian
+cowboy. When the cattle were on the cutting-grounds and the branding was
+about to begin, Henry Lee cast a contemptuous glance at his new hand and
+decided to put him to work.
+
+"Bowles," he said, "you help with the flanking."
+
+So when the first little calf came gamboling in on the line, Bowles
+rushed out and seized the rope. Working down to the calf, he caught it
+by its neck and flank and finally wrestled it to the ground. He was
+casting loose the rope when Buck Buchanan grabbed the calf by the upper
+hind leg, braced his boot against the lower leg, and sat comfortably
+down behind. Then Happy Jack came ramping out with a red-hot stamp-iron
+and slapped it against the tender hide.
+
+"Baaa!" blatted the little calf, rolling its eyes until they showed the
+whites. "Baaa!" And then, before it knew what was happening, Hardy
+Atkins knelt roughly on its neck, grabbed its left ear, and cut away
+half of it at a single stroke of the knife. "Baaa!" bellowed the calf,
+curling up its tail; and as the blood trickled forth Bowles felt himself
+grow sick and faint.
+
+"Hold his head up!" directed Atkins; and then, with an impatient yank,
+he twitched up the second ear and cut a swallow-fork. The calf writhed
+and struggled to escape, and as he fought against it Bowles caught the
+stench of burning hair. Turning, he discovered Happy Jack still bearing
+down on the hot iron and searing it deep into the flesh. That finished
+Bowles, and he sank back on the ground, turning his victim loose.
+
+"You want to hold their heads up," remarked Buck Buchanan, and Bowles
+nodded and answered faintly. What he really wanted was a chance to guard
+the herd; but orders were orders with Henry Lee, and if he failed to do
+his work he was fired. Another calf came in--a big, lusty yearling--and
+Buck made a motion with his hand.
+
+"Ketch that one," he directed in a fatherly tone of voice, and Bowles
+staggered out to do or die. But a yearling calf can be a very
+obstreperous brute on occasion, and this one was hot from his run.
+Within a minute after he had grappled with it all thought of pity had
+died out in Bowles' breast. First he caught the bull calf by the neck
+and flank and tried to pull it over; then, as it fought against him and
+trampled on his feet, he seized its further legs and tried to lift them
+up; failing in this, he laid hold of it in a frenzy and tried to throw
+it by main strength.
+
+"Git yore knees under him," suggested Buck from the middle distance.
+Then, after another period of waiting, he slouched ponderously out and
+shoved him aside.
+
+"Let me at 'im," he said. "You're keepin' Bill waitin' for his rope."
+
+He felt of the calf for a minute and pushed him to make him change his
+feet; then, as the yearling started to step, he boosted him with his
+knees, heaved him into the air, and slammed him down on his side. It was
+a man's job, and difficult for the best of them, but Bowles didn't know
+that. All he knew was that the boss was watching him, over there by the
+fire where he was keeping tally on the brands, and thinking what a
+tenderfoot he was. And he was right--Bowles conceded it. He could not
+catch his horse, he could not ride a bronk, he could not even throw a
+calf or lift it off the ground. And his back ached, awfully.
+
+It was a long morning for Mr. Bowles, packed with misery and hopeless
+struggling, like a nightmare without end. They say that in the short
+time between the instant a man starts falling out of bed and the moment
+he hits the floor, he can pass through a very inferno of dreams, passed
+down from our tree-living ancestors and striking terror to the
+heart--and yet he generally wakes up before he lands. If he did not, so
+the old nurses say, he would surely, surely die. The jagged rocks that
+threatened him in his dream would pierce his quivering body and he would
+be found dead on the floor. The coroner would call it heart-failure, of
+course; and that was what threatened Bowles.
+
+He was saved by a sound he had cursed that very morning--Gloomy Gus
+beating on his dishpan! Packing all his kit into the chuck-wagon, and
+throwing on a few sticks of wood, the cook had struck out through the
+dog towns and across the brushy flats and set up his fire irons by the
+side of a man-made lake. There he had gone busily about his task without
+waiting for the herd to come in; and just as Bowles was dropping dead,
+the dinner-call saved his life.
+
+It had been a bad dream, but, thank Heaven, he had waked up before he
+struck. A pint of scalding coffee, black and bitter from much boiling,
+and he was able to look about; and as he disposed of a couple of
+beefsteaks and dipped his biscuits in the grease, the weak place in his
+middle seemed comforted; and by the time he got around to the "fruit"
+and syrup he felt almost like a man again. Such jests as had been passed
+upon his condition had fallen upon unhearing ears, but now that he was
+brought back to health and strength he was able to smile grimly at his
+appearance as mirrored in the honest lake.
+
+His face, which he had neglected to wash before eating, was crusted with
+sweat and dirt and spotted with gouts of blood; his hair was matted and
+dust-powdered; and in the bloodshot and haggard orbs that gazed up at
+him from the placid depths he saw a look that made him start. It was a
+cruel, vindictive look, almost inhuman in its intensity; and it came
+from flanking bull calves. He looked down at his hands, all swollen and
+crabbed from clutching, and saw that they were caked with blood. His
+shirt, too, and his trim-fitting trousers were dirty and spattered with
+gore. In fact--and here was where the grim smile came in--he could
+hardly be told from a real cowboy!
+
+After dinner the cutting and branding went on as before, but with this
+important difference--Bowles flanked only his share of the calves. There
+were two sets of flankers, two hot-iron men, and two ear-markers, and
+the calves came up as they were caught. A really ambitious flanker, out
+for experience, could get almost all the calves; but the only ones that
+Bowles ran after now were the ones that were easy to throw. If a
+yearling came dancing up on a rope, he stepped on his own foot and let
+the other man beat him to it--either that or turned him over to Buck. It
+was quick work; but Bowles had a college education--he had been only six
+hours a cowboy when he learned to malinger on the job.
+
+As for the rest of the gang, inured as they were to hard labor, the
+branding was no more than a picnic for them. They found time to take
+chews of tobacco, tell stories, and watch all the roping; and if any
+calf turned out to be too big for flanking they grabbed him by the neck
+and made him run, and bulldogged him, "California fashion." Happy Jack
+was best at that, and several times in a fit of emulation he shoved some
+puncher aside and showed him how it ought to be done--but never for
+Bowles. It was strange how carefully they all avoided him--never looking
+at him, rarely addressing him, and answering his inquiries with a word.
+He was an alien, a stranger among them, and--slowly the truth was borne
+in on him--an inferior.
+
+From the start Bowles had taken it for granted that they were abashed,
+tongue-tied by his obvious education, and awed by his gentlemanly
+bearing. But now they would not so much as laugh at him, lest it
+encourage him to familiarity. Never for a minute did they allow him to
+presume on their sufferance, and his remarks fell dead and flat. Even
+Henry Lee, who had the bearing and spoke the language of a gentleman,
+refused to encourage him by a word; and at last he retired within
+himself, and saved his breath for flanking and his wits for dodging
+work.
+
+If a cowboy never soldiered on the job he would be dead before it came
+pay-day; but there are certain tasks which cannot be slighted, and one
+of these is bringing home the herd. After the day's branding the calves
+are cut into "ones" and "twos," and while the rest of the outfit troops
+gaily homeward somebody must stay behind and bring up the cut. One of
+them must be a cowman, for trailing is an art in itself, but the others
+are likely to be dubs. Certainly no boss would penalize his best hands
+and most willing workers by giving them such a task; and so, when the
+cutting was over and Henry Lee looked around for a poor hand, or one who
+had been soldiering on the job, he picked Bowles on both counts.
+
+"Bowles," he said, "you help Brigham bring up those twos!" And that was
+all there was to it. But to Brigham he spoke differently. It was "Brig,"
+with him; and instead of an order it was a request.
+
+"Brig," he said, "I'll ask you to take charge of the twos. Drive 'em
+easy and put 'em in the north pasture."
+
+"All right, sir," answered Brigham in a friendly, off-hand way, and then
+the drive began. Mounted upon a rough-coated bronk that fought his bit
+constantly yet responded to every touch of rein or spur, the burly
+puncher rode back and forth, from the rear to the flank, and then up
+near the point; and when he had them strung out to suit him he traveled
+along on one side, while Bowles brought up the rear. It was weary work,
+after the long day of flanking, and as the weaker ones began to get
+footsore they fell back to the drag and more than doubled his labors. At
+times Brigham Clark dropped back and strung them out for him again; but
+he said nothing, chewing placidly on his tobacco and giving all his
+thought to the cattle. Still the drag increased, and as they began to
+lag behind, Bowles let down his rope and lashed them with the loop. It
+was then that Brigham Clark spoke.
+
+"Don't do no good to whip 'em," he remarked, falling back to string them
+out. "They'll travel as fast as the leaders--jest let 'em go."
+
+So Bowles put up his rope and let them go, and soon they fell farther
+behind; but about the time he was preparing to whip them anyway, the
+cowman dropped back from the flank.
+
+"Now, that's the way to handle cattle," he said, nodding at the plodding
+line. "String 'em out and crowd the leaders--the drag will take care of
+itself."
+
+At that he was gone again; and for an hour or more he rode tirelessly up
+and down the side, filling up every hole and gap and shoving the leaders
+ahead. The cottonwoods of the home ranch showed green against the hills,
+and the end of their drive was in sight, when suddenly Brigham held up
+his hand to stop.
+
+"Let 'em feed a while," he said, as Bowles rode up to inquire. "The drag
+is gittin' weak." Then he sat silent on his rough-haired bronk, his
+inscrutable eyes gazing dully over the plain to the south, and Bowles
+dropped wearily off his horse and stretched himself out on the ground.
+Half an hour afterward he roused up with a start just as Dixie Lee,
+mounted on a long, rangy bay, came galloping up the road. Her eyes were
+very bright, and her cheeks were flushed from riding against the wind,
+and as she reined her horse in with a jerk her hair framed her face like
+a halo. But she did not see Bowles, though he stood up and took off his
+hat.
+
+"Hello, Brig," she called. "Watching 'em pick the flowers?"
+
+"Yes'm," answered Brigham, grinning amiably. "Watchin' 'em pluck the
+blossoms. What's goin' on down below now? Seen you go down there several
+times."
+
+"Oh, you're still keeping track of me, are you?" queried Dixie Lee
+gaily. "Well, you want to look out, Brigham--I'm getting awfully
+interested in a young Texican down there. He's got a nice farm,
+too--hundred and sixty acres!"
+
+"Sure!" agreed Brigham. "All covered with loco weed and this nice white
+stuff!"
+
+He nodded at the glistening alkali along the flat, and his eyes twinkled
+with furtive humor as Dixie Lee raised her quirt.
+
+"Aw, Brigham," she chided, "I believe you're jealous!" She leaned
+forward as she spoke, and the bay broke into a gallop, while Dixie sent
+a laugh down the wind.
+
+"Heh, heh, heh," chuckled Brigham, reaching into his vest for a
+cigarette paper. "That's Dix, all right. Don't you know, stranger," he
+went on as he rolled himself a smoke, "that's the finest gal in Arizona.
+Good folks an' all that, but nothin' stuck up about her. Heh, heh,
+mighty nigh ast her to marry me one time, but couldn't quite cut
+it--she's been joshin' me ever since. Got 'em all comin' and won't have
+none of 'em. Oh, hookey, wisht I wasn't a common, ornery cow-punch!"
+
+He paused and smoked a while, still gazing at the streak of dust.
+
+"Good rider, too," he observed; "beat most of the boys. I knowed her
+four miles away by section lines."
+
+Once more he paused, and Bowles preserved his Sphinx-like silence. He
+was learning the customs of the country fast.
+
+"Don't have any like her back where you come from, I reckon," suggested
+Brigham, his eyes shining with local pride; and Bowles sadly shook his
+head. No, they did not--there was no one like Dixie Lee.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE FIRST SMILE
+
+
+The next three days were one long, aching agony for Bowles. He carried a
+little water for Gloomy Gus, but stubbornly refused the job of flunky.
+He helped the horse wrangler--a wild-eyed youth who could pop a rope
+like a pistol-shot and yell like a murdering Apache--but as resolutely
+refused the job of assistant. He had been taken on as a cowboy, and a
+cowboy he tried to be, though every nerve and muscle called a halt. From
+the first morning, when they sent him out in the dark to wrangle the
+horse pasture, to the third evening, when he crawled wearily into an old
+"bed" that he had picked up, his life was a prolonged succession of
+accidents, mistakes, and awkward happenings; yet he stayed with it,
+bull-headed and determined, until Henry Lee grew tired of hazing him and
+put him on the day-herd to get healed up.
+
+There was very little left of the lily-white Mr. Bowles when the ordeal
+came to an end. His hands that had been so trim and slender were swelled
+up too big for his gloves. The outside was raw with sunburn and
+wind-chap and the inside was blistered and rope-worn. His lips had
+cracked wide open from the dry north wind, and his face was beginning to
+peel like a snake. Also his arms had been nearly jerked from the sockets
+by a horse he had tried to hold, and a calf had kicked him in the leg
+while he was trying to bulldog it at the branding. Like the cowboy in
+the ballad, "he was busted from his somber to his heel," but he had
+managed to come through alive. And now, as a reward for his prowess and
+daring, he was set to mind the day-herd.
+
+Grass was short in the Bat Wing pastures, and every day brought in new
+herds of dogies to be held for the April shipping; so, just to keep all
+hands busy and save a little feed, Henry Lee turned his gentle cattle
+out on to the prairie to rustle what provender they could. Now riding
+day-herd is not supposed to be a very high-grade or desirable
+occupation, and good punchers have been known to quit a boss who put
+them at it; but Bowles was led to believe that it was a post of honor.
+Awful stories of cowboys who had gone to sleep on guard were told by the
+fire at night, and the danger from sudden stampedes was played up to the
+skies. The monotony of the job was admitted, but the responsibility was
+great. So Bowles accepted the position gladly, and the round-up went on
+unimpeded.
+
+Lolling in the shade of his horse or sitting with his back to the dry
+wind, Bowles watched them "pluck the blossoms" while he doctored his
+numerous wounds, meanwhile falling into lovelorn reveries on the subject
+of Dixie Lee. It was humiliating, in a way, to be reduced to the ranks;
+to be compelled to wait on her pleasure, and court her from afar; but
+something told him that Dixie thought of him even though she passed him
+by; and just to be one of her lovers, to be allowed to worship with the
+rest--that was enough to bear him up and give him courage to wait. And
+either in the end she would speak to him and take him back into her
+life, or he would depart in silence to hide from her laughing eyes. The
+game of love was new to Bowles and he knew little of its stealth and
+wiles; just to be near her was all he knew, and the future must solve
+the rest. So, like a questing knight, nursing his hurts after his first
+combat, he sat out on the boundless prairie and communed with his own
+sad heart.
+
+Across the herd from him a battered old-time cowboy sat, crooked-legged,
+on his horse. On the day before a bronk had thrown him by treachery and
+kicked him as he dragged--even turned around and jumped on him and
+stamped him in the face. A great bruise, red and raw, ran up from his
+brows to his bald-spot where the iron shoe had struck; but still the
+old-timer was content.
+
+"A cowboy don't need no haid above his eyebrows, nohow," he had said.
+"Jest think if he had hit me on the jaw!" Yes, indeed, but what if he
+had hit him in the temple or trampled him to death! Or suppose, just for
+instance, that Mr. Bowles, of New York, had been on the bronk instead of
+Uncle Joe, the veteran--would he have had sense enough to get his foot
+out of the stirrup? That was the trouble with standing day-herd--it gave
+the imagination a chance to work.
+
+Bowles looked out over the plain again and noticed every little
+thing--the rattleweed, planted so regularly on the sandy flat; the
+dogholes, each with its high-topped mound to keep out the rain and
+floods; the black line of mesquite brush against the distant hills; the
+band of yuccas along their flanks; and then the soft, moulded summits,
+now green, now yellow, now creamy white as shrubs and bushes and bunch
+grass caught the light. It was very beautiful, but lonely. Yes, it
+lacked color--a vigorous girlish figure in the foreground to give it the
+last poetic touch.
+
+The only men who can stand the monotony of day-herding are those who are
+not overburdened with brains, and so have the ability to turn off the
+thinking-machine entirely until they need it again. Smoking helps, and
+singing long-drawn songs; but Bowles turned back to Wordsworth, the poet
+of nature. Stray snatches of poems and sonnets rose in his mind, and he
+tried to piece out the rest; then he gazed at the quivering mirage, the
+plain, the straying cattle, and wondered how Wordsworth would see it. He
+was engaged in this peaceful occupation when, on the second day, he
+noted a moving figure, far away; dreamily he watched it as it emerged
+from the barbed-wire lanes of the nesters, and then, like a flash, the
+words of Brigham came back to him: "I knowed her four miles away by
+section lines." It was Dixie Lee, and she was coming his way!
+
+There were three other worthless cowboys like himself on the day-herd,
+and they had seen her already. Like Brigham, they knew her by the way
+she rode, miles and miles away. Steadily she pounded along, keeping the
+rangy bay at an even lope, and then she turned toward the ranch. The
+long wire fence of the horse pasture had thrown her from her course, but
+now she was on the barren prairie and could skirt the north fence home.
+A series of muttered comments marked this sudden turn to the west, and
+the tall, cigarette-smoking youth who had been rubbing the sleep from
+his eyes lopped down beneath his salt-bush again. But he had returned to
+Morpheus too soon, for almost immediately after he had laid his hat over
+his eyes the distant rider changed her course, and the boys held up
+their hands for silence. Dixie Lee was going to make them a visit, after
+all, and they would let her catch him asleep.
+
+Swiftly the tireless bay came loping across the flats, winding in and
+out to dodge the dog towns, and soon the queen of the cowboys was up to
+the edge of the herd.
+
+"Hello, Uncle Joe!" she hailed, riding over toward the old-timer. "How's
+your head?"
+
+"All right, Miss Dix," replied the puncher amiably. "Cain't hurt a
+cowboy in the haid, you know."
+
+"No, but you can spoil his looks, Uncle," retorted Dixie May playfully.
+"You want to remember that--I heard a lady down here inquiring for you
+mighty special. What's the matter with Slim over there?"
+
+A whoop went up at this, and the sleeper sat up guiltily.
+
+"Oh, him?" queried Uncle Joe, speaking loud so that all could hear.
+"W'y, kinder overcome by the heat, I reckon. He gits took that way every
+once in a while."
+
+"Ever since he begin settin' up with that nester girl!" put in the other
+day-herder, with a guffaw; and Dixie May began to chuckle with laughter
+as she rode around the herd.
+
+"Well, it's too bad about him," she called back. "I'll have to go over
+there and see if he's likely to die."
+
+It took her but a moment to diagnose the sad case of Slim, and then the
+other cowboy had his call from the consulting physician. Bowles was the
+last man on the circuit, but he did not step out and bow. He did not
+expect a visit--and, besides, something told him she did not approve of
+it. So he stood quietly by his horse, and only his eyes followed her as
+she bore down on him, her head turned back to fling some gay retort and
+her horse falling into his stride. She rode to the right of him, and as
+she faced about and met his glance she stared, as if surprised.
+
+"Why, hello there, cowboy!" she challenged bluntly; and then, with a
+smile on her face, she went galloping on toward the ranch.
+
+Nobody heard her speak but Bowles; and he, poor, unsophisticated man,
+was more puzzled than enlightened by her remarks. Of one thing he was
+sure--she had lowered her voice on purpose, and her words were for him
+alone. But her smile--was it one of derision, or a token of forgiveness
+and regard? And her secret greeting--was it an accident, or was she
+ashamed of his friendship? Perhaps she had weighty reasons for keeping
+their acquaintance unknown. Somehow, that thought appealed to him above
+the rest. Perhaps she knew more than he did of the dangers which
+surrounded him--from Hardy Atkins, or some other jealous suitor, to whom
+a single smile for him might be the signal for reprisal. They
+might--why, there were a thousand things they might do if they knew what
+was in his heart! Bowles ran it all over in his mind: her sudden turning
+upon him as they approached the Chula Vista hotel; her haughty
+repudiation of him when he met her at the big house; and now this secret
+greeting, so carelessly given, yet so fraught with hidden meaning.
+
+"Why, hello there, cowboy!" she had said. And she appeared surprised, as
+if she had not expected to see him in the guise of an ordinary puncher.
+She had smiled, too; but--well, a little too broadly. Of course, out in
+the West--but, even then, it was a little broad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CONEY ISLAND
+
+
+It is wonderful how much a smile, or even a grin, will do for a
+disconsolate lover. Bowles woke suddenly to the beauties of nature and
+the wild joy of living; and that evening, instead of dropping into his
+blankets like a dead man, he tarried by the fire. A chill wind swept in
+from the frigid north, and the smoke guttered and flurried from the
+burning logs; but the cowboys sat about in their shirt-sleeves and
+blinked patiently when they caught the smoke. Inside the bunk-house the
+noise of the perpetual pitch game told where battles were being lost and
+won, a secret understanding that every game was worth a quarter on
+pay-day being the contributing cause for the excitement, since Henry Lee
+allowed no gambling among his punchers. But outside everybody was either
+broke or in the hole, and so there was nothing but peace and amity and
+long-winded arguments.
+
+The talk for the moment was centered upon "ring-tail" in horses, a
+subject upon which Brigham Clark claimed to be an authority, although
+Bowles had never even heard of it before.
+
+"No, sir," asserted Brigham, addressing the company at large; "you show
+me a ring-tailed hawse, and I'll show you a hawse with weak kidneys,
+every time. Now, I don't say how he gits them weak kidneys,
+y'understand; he may git 'em from bein' rode too young, the way Uncle
+Joe claims; or he may git 'em from drinkin' bad water, like folks; or he
+may jest be born that way. But that ain't the point--when you take a
+nice young hawse and turn him up a hill, and he quits and goes to
+ringin' his tail around--that hawse is weak, I say, or he wouldn't quit.
+A ring-tailed hawse is a weak hawse, and you might jest as well give 'im
+to the kids to play with--he'll never be no good fer a cow-pony."
+
+Coming as this did at the end of a long and technical argument, it was
+allowed to pass by the company. A quiet fell, and three or four men to
+leeward got up to avoid the smoke; but all the time Brigham Clark sat on
+the box he had captured, his big black hat pushed back on his head, his
+hand held out to the fire, and his shrewd eyes twinkling as he gazed
+down into the flames. Then he shook with silent laughter, and they knew
+he was off on another one.
+
+"Heh, heh, heh!" he chuckled. "Speakin' of ring-tails reminds me of a
+ring-tailed monkey I used to have to take care of when I was on the
+road. He was the orneriest little brat you ever see in yore life--a
+little, spider-legged proposition, with a long, limber tail, and big
+eyes that he'd always be winkin' and a-blinkin' while he was figurin'
+out some new kind of devilment--and all the time he'd be sneezin' and
+cuddlin' and snugglin' up ag'inst you like he loved you more'n his
+mammy. The boss's wife kept the little snifter fer company-like, and
+she'd pet and coddle and talk foolish to 'im until the boss would nigh
+have a fit. Jest like when a woman keeps a lap-dog, I reckon--kinder
+makes a man want to kill 'im, to keep her from muchin' 'im all the time.
+
+"Well, this here lady was shore foolish about that monkey, and every
+mornin' when we were in a town I had to take 'im out fer a walk.
+Leastways, somebody had to do it; and rather than not see the town at
+all I'd take him along under my arm. If I'd had a hand-organ I'd shore
+made a lot of money that trip--but I was thinkin' about the time I took
+the ring out of his tail. Every time we'd come to a tree, or a
+fire-escape, or something like that, the little devil would begin to
+hook up at it with his tail; and this time I'm speakin' of we was goin'
+through a little park, and I'm a son-of-a-gun if he didn't git away on
+me. Jest reached out with his tail where it was hangin' down behind, and
+grabbed a limb, and slipped the collar on me.
+
+"Yes, sir! And then he begun doin' circus stunts through them trees.
+First he'd climb up one, and then another, and then he hooked on to a
+fire-escape, and I chased him clean over a house. Policeman came along
+and wanted to arrest me, but I give 'im a talk and kept travelin',
+because I knew if I didn't ketch that monkey I didn't need to go back to
+the tent. Well, I chased him till my tongue hung out, but about the time
+I'd reach out to ketch 'im he'd swing off with his tail and git into the
+next tree; so I went over to a fruit store and tried to ketch 'im with
+bananas. Last chance I had, and I was gittin' pretty mad. All the kids
+was there to tease me, the policeman was tellin' me to move on--and that
+cussed monkey kept hangin' down by his tail and makin' faces at me,
+until, by grab, I reached down and took up a rock.
+
+"'Now, hyer,' I says, holdin' up the banana, 'you'd better come down
+before I git hot and soak you with this,' and I showed him the size of
+that pavin' stone.
+
+"'Etchee-etchee-etchee!' he says, swingin' up for a limb; and then I let
+'im have it. They wasn't any ring in his tail when he come down, believe
+me; and when I showed the remains to the missus she like to tore my hair
+out. Boss he fired me--mad as the devil--then when she wasn't lookin' he
+slipped me a twenty, and told me to go back to Coney. There was a happy
+man, fellers, but he had to let on different--married, you know. So I
+took the twenty and went back to old Coney, where they shoot the chutes
+and loop the loops, and any man that's got a dime is as rich as John G.
+Rockefeller. Big doin's back there, fellers--you don't know what you're
+missin'."
+
+An abashed silence followed this remark, calculated as it was to reduce
+his hearers to a proper state of humility; and then, to add to its
+effectiveness, the Odysseus of the cow camps turned to Bowles.
+
+"Ain't that so, stranger?" he said; and Bowles thought he detected a
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" he replied. "There's no place in the world like Coney
+Island. Changing very rapidly, too. Have you been there lately? That
+Dreamland is wonderful, isn't it? And Luna Park----"
+
+"Hah!" exclaimed Brigham, slapping his leg. "That's the place! Loony
+Park! Ain't that the craziest place you ever see? Everything
+upside-down, topsy-turvy--guess I never told you boys about that. Didn't
+dare to, by grab--not till this gentleman come along to back me up!"
+
+He glanced at Bowles significantly and waited for the questions.
+
+"What does she look like, Brig?" inquired Bar Seven, the stray man.
+"Pretty fancy, eh?"
+
+"Fancy!" repeated Brigham, with royal insolence. "Well, believe me,
+goin' through this Loony Park would make Tucson look like a cow camp!
+She's shore elegant--silver and gold, and big barroom looking-glasses
+everywhere--only everything is upside-down. You go into the house
+through the chimney, walk around on the ceilin' and there's all the
+tables and chairs stuck up on the top. Big chandeliers standin' straight
+up from the floor, and all the pictures hangin' wrong side to on the
+walls. Stairs is all built backwards, and when you're half way up, if
+you look like a Rube, they'll straighten 'em out like a flat board and
+shoot you into the attic. Talk about crazy--w'y, they's been a feller
+walked through this Loony Park and never knowed straight up afterwards.
+It's shore wonderful, ain't it, pardner?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" answered Bowles suavely; and, seeing that he could be
+relied upon, Brigham Clark cut loose with another one.
+
+"Ain't that so, mister?" he inquired at the end; and Bowles, who saw a
+chance for revenge, assured the gawking cowboys that it was. These were
+the boys who had been gloating over him for a week and more, but now it
+was his turn.
+
+"Yes, indeed," he replied, with a blasé, worldly-wise air; "quite a
+common occurrence, I'm sure."
+
+At this the ready Brigham took fresh courage, and his little eyes
+twinkled with mischief.
+
+"Friend," he said, "if it's none of my business, of course you'll let me
+know, but you've been around a little, haven't you? Seen the world,
+mebbe? Well now, what's the wonderfulest thing you ever see?"
+
+A flush of pleasure mantled Bowles' sunburned face, for it was the first
+time he had been addressed as man to man since he struck the Bat Wing;
+but he did not lose the point--Brigham had a bigger story to bring out
+and he was waiting for a lead.
+
+"Well," he said, "I _have_ seen a good many wonderful exhibitions, but
+the one that I think of at this moment as the most striking was Selim,
+the diving horse. You remember him, I guess--out at Coney Island. He was
+a beautiful horse, wasn't he? Snowy white, with a long, flowing mane,
+and intelligent as a human. He mounted to a platform forty-five feet
+high and leaped off into a pool of water. That was the most wonderful
+thing I ever saw, because he did it all by himself--climbed up to the
+platform, stepped out to the diving-place, and jumped off when his
+master said the word. Yes, that was certainly wonderful."
+
+"You bet!" assented Brig, regarding him with admiring eyes; but the
+others were not so easily satisfied. That was one thing they claimed to
+be up on--horses--and they looked the solemn stranger over dubiously.
+
+"How high did you say that platform was?" inquired Uncle Joe cautiously.
+"Forty-five--well, that was shore high. I cain't hardly git my hawse to
+cross the crick."
+
+"How deep was that pool?" spoke up Bar Seven, the stray man. "Ten foot?
+Huh! Say, boys, this reminds me of that divin' story of Brig's!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter with that divin' story of mine?" demanded
+Brigham orgulously. "You're behind the times, Bar Seven. While you was
+on yore way this gentleman come into camp, and he's seen that done
+himself. What do you know about it, anyhow--spent all yore life punchin'
+cows and eatin' sand--what do you know about divin', anyhow?"
+
+"Well, they's one thing I do know," retorted Bar Seven, "and that's
+hawses. I been with hawses all my life, and you cain't tell me about no
+hawse divin'--stands to reason he'd hit the bottom and break his neck,
+anyway!"
+
+"Perhaps I would better explain," broke in Bowles politely. "When the
+horse leaves the platform he slides down an inclined chute, below which
+is hung a heavily padded board. As the horse slips off he naturally
+kicks and struggles, and his feet, flying out behind, strike the padded
+board so that, while he leaps off headforemost, he rights himself in the
+air and falls into the pool feet first. Of course, forty-five feet is
+quite a distance, but he probably never goes to the bottom at all."
+
+"Well, that's all right," admitted Bar Seven. "I don't know about
+that--but tell me this, stranger: How does the man git that hawse to
+climb up there and take the jump? Tell me that, and I'll believe
+anything!"
+
+"Why, certainly," said Bowles. "At the time of which I speak, a young
+girl rode on his back when he made the plunge--just to make it more
+exciting, you know--but I watched the man quite closely, and really it
+was very interesting. First the girl went up the long incline, which had
+a railing and was provided with cleats, of course. Then the trainer
+brought Selim out and gave him a handful of sugar from his pocket,
+rubbing his head and talking to him while he was begging for more, until
+he had him up to the chute. There he stripped the halter off and spoke
+to him, and the horse started up by himself, he was so eager for the
+reward. At the top the girl mounted him and turned him down the
+diving-chute; and, don't you know, the first thing he did when he got to
+land was to trot back and get his sugar!"
+
+"Oh, sugar!" cried Bar Seven, in disgust; but somehow the
+circumstantiality of the narrative seemed to carry conviction with the
+others, and he found himself alone.
+
+"What breed of hawse was that?" inquired Uncle Joe, after a pause.
+
+"A pure-blooded Arabian," answered Bowles; "supposed to be the most
+intelligent horses in the world. The Arabians, you know, keep their
+horses about their tents and raise them as if they were children,
+teaching them to understand the human voice and to answer like a dog."
+
+"W'y, sure!" broke in Brigham, artfully taking the lead again. "Don't
+you fellers remember that story in the school book about Ali Ben Hassan,
+or whatever his name was, that was wounded in a battle and his hawse
+picked him up by his belt and packed him back to his tent? I tell you,
+them A-rabs are a pretty smooth bunch of _hombres_. They not only savvy
+hawses from the ground up but they're the finest jugglers and
+strong-armed men that the world has ever seen. I remember back at Coney
+they was three brothers that did sech tricks you couldn't hardly believe
+it.
+
+"They was called the Hassan brothers--all A-rabs is either named Hassan
+or A-li--and the oldest one was a balancer. That feller could balance a
+peacock feather on his nose--throw a flip-flap clean over it, and come
+up with it still on his nose--but that was jest fer a starter. His big
+stunt was balancin' clay pipes. He'd take a hundred and forty-four
+long-handled pipes, balance 'em one on top of the other, and then skip
+up to the top and set there while he took a smoke."
+
+"What! One on top of the other?" demanded Bar Seven incredulously.
+
+"Aw, no, you bone head!" replied Brigham impatiently. "What d'ye
+think--would he pile 'em up a hundred foot high? He made 'em into a kind
+of pyramid-like--but he was nothin' to his younger brother. That feller
+was a rope-sharp. You punchers think you can twirl the rope some, but
+you're back in the calf corral alongside of him. He could throw a loop
+out on the floor, and send it quilin' around like a snake, hoppin' over
+chairs and tables like a trained dog, and then have it come back and
+hog-tie 'im at one lick, so that an expert couldn't unfasten the knots
+in half an hour. But that was jest good rope work with him; his big play
+come at the end when he tied a twenty-pound weight at the end of it and
+began to swing it round. By Joe, that was great! And then, right at the
+end, when he pulled his big stuff, he heaved that weight forty foot into
+the air, clum up the rope and set down on top of it smokin' his cigar!
+Now, by grab, can you beat that?"
+
+"Kin we beat it?" echoed Bar Seven and the bunch. "Kin we believe
+it--that's the point!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter with it?" demanded Brigham irritably. "Seems
+like every time I tell you cotton-pickers anythin' you up an' call me a
+liar. What's the matter, anyway?"
+
+"What's the matter?" yelled Bar Seven, raising his voice above the rest.
+"W'y, you ignorant devil, how could the feller set on the weight when it
+was only throwed up in the air?"
+
+A chorus of other demands followed, but Brigham only sat on his box,
+smiling easily.
+
+"Say, what do you take me for?" he inquired, gazing about him pityingly.
+"If I knowed how that A-rab did that rope-work, d'ye think I'd be
+punchin' cows? Not fer me--I'd be drawin' a thousand dollars a week back
+at Coney. Of co'se I can't say how it was done--no more than you
+can--but that's what makes the show! If the people knowed, they wouldn't
+come no more! Ain't that so, pardner?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles.
+
+"W'y sure!" went on Brigham. "Anybody that knows anythin' about the show
+business knows that. No matter how good a stunt is, it's got to be
+mysterious or the people won't pay to see it. Either that, or it's got
+to be feats of strength and darin'. Now this youngest Hassan brother was
+a strong-armed man. He'd wrap a piece of chain around his arm, tighten
+up his muscle and _pop!_ it'd break right square in two. Same thing with
+his chest--he'd wrap a loggin' chain around his breast, suck in his
+breast, and snap it like a thread. You've seen fellers like that,
+haven't you?"
+
+"Sure!" said Bowles.
+
+"Yes--all right!" continued Brigham apologetically. "Seems like the
+simplest thing I tell these fellers some rabbit-twister from Texas up
+and contradicts me. Well, this youngest brother had a pretty good stunt
+to end up with--nothin' flashy, of co'se, but pretty good fer a kid. He
+was powerful strong in the right arm and he'd hold it out like
+this"--Brigham held out his brawny arm--"and then he'd muscle up, real
+slow-like, and then, by grab, he'd raise himself right up, and come down
+over, and set right down on that thumb!"
+
+He elevated his thumb as he spoke, and the cowboys gazed at it as if
+hypnotized. Then Bar Seven rose up slowly and, walking over to the
+defenseless Brigham, mashed his hat down over his eyes at a single blow.
+
+"Brig," he said, his voice trembling with conviction, "you're a
+dad-burned liar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PROMOTED
+
+
+There was quite a little excitement in the bunk-house that night, and
+when it was at its height Brigham Clark came tottering out with his bed.
+
+"Say, where's that friend of mine--that Coney Island feller?" he
+inquired, addressing the recumbent forms of men as he scouted along the
+wagon-shed. "I'm skeered to sleep in the same house with them
+cotton-pickers and old Bar Seven--they might rise up in the night and
+throw me into the hawse-trough. Huh? Oh, that's him over there, hey?
+Well, so long, fellers--kinder cold out hyer, ain't it? But I cain't
+sleep in that bunk-house no more--them fellers, they doubt my veracity!"
+
+He was still chuckling with subdued laughter as he dropped his bed down
+in a far corner beside Bowles; but nothing was said until he had spread
+his "tarp" and blankets and crept in out of the cold. Then he laughed
+again, quivering until the earth seemed to shake with his contagious
+merriment.
+
+"Say, pardner," he said, "you're all right. We capped 'em in on that
+proper, and no mistake. Did you see old Bar Seven's jaw drop when he saw
+how he was bit? I'll have that on him for many a long day now, and it'll
+shore cost him the drinks when we git to town next month. Gittin' too
+lively for me over in the bunk-house, so I thought I'd come out here
+with you."
+
+"Sure!" responded Bowles, who had secretly been lonely for company.
+"It's rather cold out here, but the air is better."
+
+"Yes--and the company," added Brigham meaningly. "Ain't these Texicans
+the ignorantest bunch? W'y, them fellers don't know _nothin'_ till they
+see you laugh! I could've got away with that strong-arm business if I
+could've kept my face straight, but old Bar Seven was too many fer me--I
+jest had to snicker or I'd bust! Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!"
+
+"There was one thing which kind of puzzled me, though," observed Bowles.
+"Would you mind telling me where you got that absurd idea of the three
+Hassan brothers?"
+
+"W'y, sure not," giggled Brigham, creeping closer and lowering his
+voice. "Don't tell anybody, but I got it off a drummer in the
+smokin'-car when I was comin' back from the Fair in Phoenix. The way
+he told it, there was an Englishman and a Frenchman and an Irishman
+talkin' together, each one braggin' about his own country; and the
+Englishman began it by tellin' about his younger brother, who wasn't
+nothin' hardly in England but could do that first stunt with the clay
+pipes. Then the Frenchman told about his brother, who wasn't nothin' for
+a balancer but was pretty good at rope-work; and the Irishman, in order
+to trump 'em right, he tells about his youngest brother that was strong
+in the arms. Say, that shore knocked the persimmon, didn't it? Them
+fellers was like the man that come out of Loony Park--they didn't know
+straight-up! Their eyes was stickin' out so you could rope 'em with a
+grape-vine, but they didn't dare to peep. Been called down too often.
+But say, pardner, on the dead, how about that divin' hawse?"
+
+"Why--er--what do you mean?" asked Bowles.
+
+"Well, did he shore enough do that, or was you jest stringin' 'em?"
+
+"Why, yes, certainly he did! Haven't you ever heard about Selim, the
+diving horse? How long ago was it that you were at Coney Island?"
+
+"Who--me?" inquired Brigham. "Never was there," he replied with engaging
+frankness; "never been outside the Territory. Say, you didn't think I'd
+shore been there, did ye?" he questioned eagerly.
+
+"I certainly did," replied Bowles. "Of course, I knew that you were
+drawing the long bow this evening--but how did you get all this
+information if you've never been there?"
+
+"Heh, heh, heh!" chuckled Brigham, rolling over on his bed. "Say, this
+is pretty good, by grab! Feller comes clear out hyer from New York, and
+I take him in, too! W'y, pardner, I was with a carnival company down at
+the Territorial Fair last fall, and that was the nearest I ever got to
+Coney; but they was a feller there--the ballyhoo man for Go-Go, the wild
+boy--and he was always tellin' me about Coney, until I knowed it like a
+book. Yes, sir, I jest camped right down and listened to that spieler;
+and he was shore glad to talk. Talkin' was his business, and he'd been
+at it so long he'd got the habit--couldn't help it--all he needed was
+some feller to listen to 'im. But all he'd talk about was Coney Island.
+Been there for years and didn't know nothin' else--and he shore filled
+me up right. Learned me all his spiels and everythin', and when I come
+back from winterin' in that Phoenix country I tole 'em I was back from
+New York. New York and the Great White Way--and Coney.
+
+"But you shore strengthened my hand immensely, pardner, the way you
+he'ped out to-night. Now, we want to stand pat on this--don't tip me off
+to 'em--and pretty soon I'll have 'em all spraddled out ag'in. Hardy
+Atkins and that bunch, they make too much noise--they won't let me talk
+at all--but you watch me go after Bar Seven and these stray men. I'll
+tell ye--you put me wise to a whole lot more stuff, and I'll frame up
+another come-on. How's that now?"
+
+"All right," agreed Bowles, yawning sleepily. "Good-night!"
+
+He dropped back into his blankets and covered up his head; but Brigham
+failed to take the hint.
+
+"Got any more divin' stories?" he asked, with gentle insistence. "They
+bite on them fine. Or a hawse story! A cowboy thinks he knows all about
+hawses. Go ahead and give me one now, so I can spring it on 'em in the
+mornin'--I got to have somethin' to come back at 'em with. They're
+always throwin' it into me about being a Mormon--I jest wanter show 'em
+that I've got the goods. Go ahead now--tell me somethin'!"
+
+"All right," said Bowles, coming out from under his blankets; "but,
+really, I'm awfully sleepy!"
+
+"Yeah; you'll git over that after you've been punchin' cows a while,"
+observed Brigham sagely. "I'm on the wrangle again, but it don't worry
+me none. Cowboy's got no right to sleep, nohow. Let 'im trade his bed
+for a lantern--that's what they all say--but don't fergit that divin'
+story, pardner. Didn't you never see no more divin' stunts--in New York
+or somewhere?"
+
+"Why, yes," answered Bowles, brightening up; "that reminds me--there's
+the Hippodrome!"
+
+"Aha!" breathed Brigham. "What's it like?"
+
+"Why, the Hippodrome," continued Bowles, "is an immense playhouse right
+in the heart of New York that's given over entirely to spectacles. It
+has a stage large enough to accommodate a thousand people, and a great
+lake out in front that is big enough to float a fleet of boats; and
+every year they put on some new spectacle. One year it will be the
+battle of Manila Bay, for instance, with ships and men and cannons, and
+a great shipwreck scene right there in the lake, with people falling
+overboard and getting drowned--and the peculiar thing is that when a
+boatload of people fall into that lake they never come up again. It's
+just the same as if they were drowned."
+
+"Aw, say," broke in Brigham, "you're givin' me a fill, ain't you?"
+
+"No," protested Bowles warmly; "I'm telling you the truth. Why, I saw
+the most glorious spectacle there one night. It represented the tempting
+of some young prince by Cleopatra, the beautiful Egyptian queen. There
+were six hundred women in the play, and as they marched and
+countermarched across the stage the lights would throw soft colors about
+them, and then as they danced the colors would change, until the whole
+place looked like fairyland. Then they would swing up into the air on
+invisible wires and hover about like butterflies--there would be a flash
+and all would have wings--and then they would disappear again and come
+out dressed in armor like Amazons. And in the last act, when the prince
+had sent them away, they marched down the broad stone steps that lead
+into the lake, four abreast, and without taking a deep breath, or
+showing any concern whatever, they just walked right into that deep
+water and disappeared. Never came up again. Gone, the whole six hundred
+of them!"
+
+"Gone!" echoed Brigham in amazement. "Where to? Where'd they go to?"
+
+"Under the water--that's all I know."
+
+"Gee, what a lie!" exclaimed Brigham, rising up in bed. "By jicks,
+pardner, I shore have to take off my hat to you--you got a wonderful
+imagination!"
+
+"No, indeed!" protested Bowles. "It's every word of it true. This
+Hippodrome was designed by the same man who built Luna Park, and
+invented the loop the loop, and shoot the chutes, and all those other
+wonderful things. I was reading an article about that Hippodrome lake
+and it seems he built some kind of a great metal hood down under the
+water and filled it with compressed air of just the right pressure to
+displace the water. All the details are held secret, and the very people
+who use it are kept in ignorance, but as near as can be found out the
+performers dive right down under that hood and from there they are taken
+off through underground passages and carried back to their
+dressing-rooms. Several people were drowned while they were
+experimenting with it, but now it's perfectly safe; I don't suppose
+those women mind it at all."
+
+"No!" cried Brigham, still struggling with his emotions. "Is it as easy
+as that? But say," he whispered, as the magnitude of the story came over
+him, "jest wait till I get this off on the cowboys--I'll have me a
+reputation like old Tom Pepper, or Windy Bill up on the J.F.! You don't
+want to pull it yoreself, do you? Well, jest give me the details, then,
+and I'll depend on you to make my hand good when they come back for the
+explanation. But, by grab, if it's anythin' like what you say, I'm shore
+goin' to save my money and drag it fer old New York!"
+
+"Yes, indeed," murmured Bowles, cuddling down into his bed; "I'm sure
+you'd enjoy it."
+
+He fell to breathing deeply immediately, feigning a dreamless slumber,
+and when Brigham asked his next question Bowles was lost to the world.
+The cowboy's night was all too short for him, ending as it did at
+four-thirty in the morning, and not even a consideration for Brigham's
+future career could fight off the demands of sleep. Yet hardly had he
+closed his eyes--or so it seemed--when Gloomy Gus flashed his lantern in
+his face and then turned to the ambitious Brigham.
+
+"Git up, Brig!" he rasped. "It's almost day! Wranglers!"
+
+"Oh, my Lord!" moaned Brigham, turning to hide his face, but the
+round-up cook was inexorable and at last he had his way. Then as the
+wranglers clumped away to saddle their night-horses the dishpan clanged
+out its brazen summons and one by one the cowboys stirred and rose. Last
+of all rose Bat Wing Bowles, for his head was heavy with sleep; but a
+pint of the cook's hot coffee brought him back to life again, and he was
+ready for another day.
+
+Shrill yells rose from the far corner of the horse pasture; there was a
+rumble of feet, a din of hoofbeats growing nearer, and then with a noise
+like thunder the remuda poured into the corral. A scamper of ponies and
+the high-pitched curses of the riders told where the outlaws were being
+turned back from a break; and then the bars went up and the wranglers
+ran shivering to the fire.
+
+"Pore old Brig!" observed Bar Seven with exaggerated concern. "He was up
+all night!"
+
+"What's the matter?" inquired another. "Feet hurt 'im?"
+
+"No," said Bar Seven sadly; "it was his haid!"
+
+Brigham looked up from his cup of coffee and said nothing. Then, seeing
+many furtive eyes upon him, he laughed shortly, and filled his cup
+again.
+
+"Yore _eyes_ look kinder bad, Seven," he said. "Must've kinder strained
+'em last night."
+
+"Nope," answered Bar Seven, upon whom the allusion was not lost; and
+with this delicate passage at arms the subject of big stories was
+dropped. Henry Lee came down, there was a call for horses, and in the
+turmoil of roping and mounting the matter was forgotten. Brigham had
+scored a victory and he was satisfied, while the stray men were biding
+their time. So the marvels of the Hippodrome were held in reserve, and
+the round-up supplied the excitement.
+
+As the riding of bronks progressed, the accidents that go with such work
+increased. Almost every morning saw its loose horse racing across the
+flats, and the number of receptive candidates for the job of day-herding
+was swelled by the battle-scarred victims. Then fate stepped in, the
+scene was changed, and Bowles found himself a man again.
+
+"Bowles," said Henry Lee, as he lingered by the fire, "can you drive a
+team?"
+
+Visions of a flunky's job driving the bed-wagon rose instantly in his
+mind; but Bowles had been trained to truth-telling and he admitted that
+he could.
+
+"Ever drive a wild team?" continued Lee, with a touch of severity.
+
+"Well--no," answered Bowles. "I've driven spirited horses, such as we
+have in the East, but----"
+
+"Think you could drive the grays to Chula Vista and back?"
+
+"Oh, the grays!" cried Bowles, a sudden smile wreathing his countenance
+as he thought of that spirited pair. "Why, yes; I'm sure I could!"
+
+"Oh," commented Henry Lee, as if he had his doubts; but after a quick
+glance at the self-sufficient youth he seemed to make up his mind.
+"Well," he said, "I'll get Hardy to hook 'em up--Mrs. Lee wants you to
+take her to town."
+
+"Certainly," responded Bowles, turning suddenly sober. "I'll be very
+careful indeed."
+
+"Yes," said the cattleman; "and if you can't drive, I want you to say so
+now."
+
+"I've driven in the horse shows, Mr. Lee," answered Bowles. "You can
+judge for yourself."
+
+"Oh, you have, have you?" And the keen gray eyes of Henry Lee seemed to
+add: "Then what are you doing out here?" But all he said was: "Very
+well."
+
+Half an hour later, with his gloved hands well out to the front, and the
+whip in his right for emergencies, Bowles went racing southward behind
+the grays; while Mrs. Lee, her face muffled against the wind, was
+wondering at his skill. As a cowboy, Mr. Bowles had been a
+laughing-stock, but now he displayed all the courage and control of a
+Western stage-driver, with some of the style of a coachman thrown in.
+
+"How well you drive, Mr. Bowles!" she ventured, after the grays had had
+their first dash. "I was afraid I shouldn't be able to go to town until
+after the round-up--Mr. Atkins is so busy, you know."
+
+Bowles bowed and smiled grimly. It had been Hardy Atkins' boast that he
+alone was capable of handling the grays, and as he was harnessing them
+up that gentleman had seen fit to criticize the arrangements, only to be
+rebuked by Henry Lee.
+
+"You know Mr. Lee depends so much on Hardy," continued Mrs. Lee, "and he
+needs him so on the circle that I disliked very much to ask for him--but
+something you said the other night about stage-coaching made me think
+that perhaps you could drive. Of course, any of the boys _could_ drive,
+but--well, for some reason or other, I can never get them to talk to me;
+and to ride forty miles with a man who is too embarrassed to talk, and
+who hates you because he can't chew tobacco--that isn't so
+pleasant--now, is it?"
+
+"Why, no, I presume not," agreed Bowles. "You know, I'm recently from
+the East, and perhaps that's why I notice it, but these Western men seem
+very difficult to get acquainted with. Of course I'm a greenhorn and all
+that, and I suppose they haven't much respect for me as a cowboy, but
+it's such a peculiar thing--no one will speak to me directly. Even when
+they make fun of me, they keep it among themselves. Brigham Clark is the
+only one who gives me any degree of friendship--and, that reminds me, I
+must get him some tobacco in town."
+
+"Yes, I know what you mean," said Mrs. Lee. "I guess I do! Think of
+living out here for thirty years, Mr. Bowles, and having them still hold
+aloof. With Dixie, now, it is different. She was born here, and in a way
+she speaks their language. I have done my best, to be sure, to keep her
+diction pure--and Henry even has given up all his old, careless ways of
+speaking in order to do his part; but, somehow, she has learned the
+vernacular from these cowboys, and in spite of all I can say she will
+persist in using it. It was only yesterday that I overheard her say to
+Hardy: 'Yes, I can ride ary hawse in the pen!' And she says 'You-all'
+like a regular Texan. Of course, that is Southern too--and I have known
+some very cultivated Texans--but, oh, it makes me feel so bad that my
+daughter should fall into these careless ways! I have been in Arizona
+nearly thirty years now, and it has meant the loss of a great deal to me
+in many ways; but there was one thing I would not give up, Mr. Bowles--I
+would not give up my educated speech!"
+
+She ended with some emotion, and Bowles glanced at her curiously, but he
+made no carping comments. When a lady has sacrificed so much to preserve
+the language of her fathers, it would be a poor return indeed to give
+her aught but praise--and yet he could sense it dimly that she had paid
+a fearful price. Personally, he was beginning to admire the direct
+speech of Dixie May, even to the extent of dropping some of his more
+obvious Eastern variants; but to the mother he hid the leanings of his
+heart.
+
+"Your accent is certainly very pure," he said. "Really, I have never
+heard more perfect English--except, perhaps, from some highly educated
+foreigner. Our tendency to lapse into the vernacular lays us all open to
+criticism, of course. But don't you find, Mrs. Lee, that your Eastern
+speech is a bar, in a way, to the closest relations with your neighbors?
+I know with me it has been that way, and I am already trying to adopt
+the Western idiom as far as possible. Why, really, when I first came,
+they ridiculed me so for saying 'Beg pardon' that I doubt if I shall
+ever use the expression again. And I am having such a struggle to say
+'calves'--not 'cahves,' you know, but 'calves'! It is all right to say
+'brahnding cahves' back in New York, but out here it is so frightfully
+conspicuous! And besides----"
+
+"Oh, now, Mr. Bowles," protested Mrs. Lee, laying a restraining hand on
+his arm, "I hope you will not shatter all my hopes by falling into this
+dreadful vernacular. If you only knew how much I enjoy your manner of
+speaking, if you knew what memories of New York and the old life your
+words bring up, you would hesitate, I am sure, to cast aside your
+heritage. Really, if Henry would have let me, I should have invited you
+up to the house the very evening you came; but you--well, you had some
+disagreement with him at the start, and it's rather prejudiced him
+against you. And, besides, he has his ideas of discipline, you know, and
+against making exceptions of one man over another; and so--well, I did
+hope you would be able to drive, because now I want to have a good long
+talk.
+
+"I'm not proud, or 'stuck up,' as they say out here, Mr. Bowles," she
+went on, as if eager to begin her holiday; "and really I do everything
+in my power to be friendly, but the class of people who come here--these
+poor, ignorant nesters, and rough, hard-swearing cowboys--they seem
+actually to resent my manner of speaking. Of course, I was a
+school-teacher for a few years--before I married Henry--and I suppose
+that has made a difference; but I do get so lonely sometimes, with Dixie
+out riding around somewhere and Henry off on the round-up--and yet I
+just can't bring myself to speak this awful, vulgar Texas-talk. Now
+Dixie, she rides around anywhere, speaks to all the women, says 'Howdy'
+to all the men, and, I declare, when I hear her talking with these
+cowboys I wonder if she's my own daughter! They have such common ways of
+expressing themselves, although I must say they are always polite
+enough--but what I really object to is their familiar attitude toward
+Dixie. No matter what their class or station, they always seem to take
+it for granted that they are perfectly eligible, and that she is sure to
+marry one of them, and that even the commonest has a kind of gambler's
+chance to win her hand."
+
+She paused, overcome apparently by memories of past courtships, and
+Bowles shuffled his feet uneasily.
+
+"Of course," he said at length, "your daughter is very attractive----"
+
+"Oh, do you think so?" exclaimed Mrs. Lee, making no concealment of her
+pleasure in the fact. "I thought, from the way you spoke to her--when I
+introduced you, you know----"
+
+"Oh, that was just my manner!" interrupted Bowles hastily. "A little
+embarrassed, perhaps."
+
+"But I thought," persisted Mrs. Lee, "I thought from the way you both
+acted that you had met before. In New York, perhaps--you know, she has
+been there all winter--or some time before that evening. You know, Dixie
+is generally so free with the new cowboys, but she spoke up at you so
+sharply, and you----"
+
+"Ah--excuse me," interposed Bowles, "perhaps I would better explain.
+I did meet your daughter, very informally to be sure, on the morning
+of my arrival at Chula Vista. It was that which caused my
+embarrassment--always painful when people fail to recognize you, you
+know--and especially with a lady. Er--what do all these prairie-dogs
+live on, Mrs. Lee? We have passed so many of them, but I don't see----"
+
+"Mr. Bowles," said Mrs. Lee, placing her hand once more upon his arm and
+looking at him with an anxious mother's eyes, "I want you to meet my
+daughter again. She was in New York all winter, you know, and perhaps
+you have some friends in common. Anyway, I wish we could see more of
+you--it would be such a pleasure to me, and Dixie----"
+
+She let her eyes express her longing for the improvement of Dixie's
+diction--a certain approval, too, of Bowles--but he did not respond at
+once. Fighting within his breast was a mad, fatuous desire to stand in
+the presence of his beloved, to hear the music of her voice and behold
+the swiftness and grace of her comings and goings; but almost as an echo
+in his ears he could hear the mocking formalism of her answers, and feel
+the scorn in her eyes as she sneered at him for pursuing her. His face
+became graver as he thought, and then, with the ready wit of his kind,
+he framed up a tactful excuse.
+
+"Oh, thank you," he said. "It's very kind of you, I'm sure--and there is
+nothing I should enjoy more--but under the circumstances I am afraid I
+shall have to decline. You know of course that, whatever my life may
+have been in the past, at present I am nothing but a hired hand--and a
+very poor hand at that, I am afraid. And since Mr. Lee has asked you not
+to make exceptions among the men, I should be very sorry indeed to go
+against his wishes."
+
+"Oh, that is not the rule, Mr. Bowles," protested Mrs. Lee. "We make
+exceptions to it all the time, and I am sure Henry would be glad to have
+you come. Some evening after supper, you know. I want so much to have
+Dixie meet people of refinement and education, and while for the moment
+you may be working as a common cowboy, of course we know----"
+
+"You know very little, as a matter of fact," interposed Bowles; "and I
+am sorry that circumstances make it impossible for me to discuss my
+antecedents. But has it not occurred to you, Mrs. Lee, that, considering
+the attitude of the cowboys in the past, it might--well, my motives
+might be misunderstood--if I should call."
+
+"Why, surely, Mr. Bowles," began Mrs. Lee, her eyes big with wonder,
+"you are not--er--afraid of what the cowboys----"
+
+"Oh, no, no!" protested Bowles, blushing to the tips of his sunburned
+ears. "Certainly not! I did not mean the cowboys."
+
+"Well, what then?" demanded Mrs. Lee, in perplexity.
+
+Mr. Bowles hesitated a moment, looking straight ahead to where Chula
+Vista rose between the horses' ears.
+
+"You will excuse me, Mrs. Lee, I'm sure," he said, speaking very low.
+"But when I spoke of my motives being misunderstood, I did not have
+reference to the cowboys. I was--er--thinking of your daughter."
+
+"My daughter!" echoed Mrs. Lee, suddenly sitting up very straight in her
+seat. Then, as the significance of his remarks became evident, she gazed
+across at him reproachfully.
+
+"Why, Mr. Bowles!" she said; and then there was a long, pensive silence,
+broken only by the thud of flying feet, the rattle and rumble of wheels,
+and the _yikr-r-r_ of startled prairie-dogs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A LETTER FROM THE POSTMISTRESS
+
+
+The morning after Bowles' return from his trip to Chula Vista--during
+which he had made the startling proposition about being misunderstood by
+Dixie Lee--the entire Bat Wing outfit packed up its plunder and pulled
+out for the big round-up. First the cowboys, with a fifteen-mile ride
+ahead of them before they began to gather, went stringing across the
+plains at a high trot; then the remuda, stretching out in a mighty fan
+of horses, came fogging along behind them, to be ready for a change at
+the cutting-grounds; and last the chuck-wagon and the bed-wagon--one
+full of Dutch ovens and provisions, the other piled high with
+well-lashed beds--went hammering through chuck holes and dipping into
+dry washes in a desperate attempt to reach the rendezvous in time for
+dinner.
+
+A gangling youth in overalls, and with a pair of cheap "can-opener"
+spurs on his shoes, acted the part of assistant to the horse-wrangler;
+and an open-faced individual with a great taste for plug tobacco and the
+song called "Casey Jones" drove the bed-wagon for Gloomy Gus; but Bowles
+rode out with the cowboys. By a piece of good luck, he had backed
+Wa-ha-lote into a corner that morning, and so menaced him with his rope
+that the good-natured monarch had finally stood and surrendered for a
+handful of sugar. So Mr. Bowles rode out in style, without any
+ostensible glances toward the big house, where Dixie May was reviewing
+her admirers from the gallery. By this time, of course, Mrs. Lee would
+have informed her daughter of the Eastern stray's presumption--of his
+daring to suggest that, in case he called, she, Dixie, might
+misunderstand his motives and think he was laying siege to her
+heart--and of course Dixie May would be indignant!
+
+But, if she was, she carried it off well, for Bowles never got a look
+from her. Of course, in a bunch of thirty cowboys, even on such a fancy
+mount as high-headed Wa-ha-lote, one man does not stand out
+conspicuously from the rest--that is, not unless his horse is pitching.
+Hardy Atkins was on an outlaw sorrel called El Paso del Norte, and he
+made up the center of the picture. Del Norte was a wonder at the
+buck-jump, especially if some one spurred him in the shoulders, which
+Hardy did, and the departure of our hero was a little dimmed by his
+dust. Still Bowles was pleased, even if he was leaving the home of his
+beloved for two weeks, for something told him that he had at last won
+distinction in the ruck of suitors--the only man who had not let it go
+for granted that he was in love with Dixie Lee. Of course, he
+was--desperately so--but an instinct deep down in his breast warned him
+to conceal it from all the world. And especially from Dixie, the
+capricious; otherwise, she might win him by a glance and a smile, and
+then disprize him forever.
+
+But now the stern realities of life loomed up before him, and Bowles
+found himself with a real round-up on his hands. It does not take much
+of a man to sit on the front porch and talk near-love with a girl; but
+to follow a Western round-up is a task to try the hardiest. For three
+hours Bowles rode at a rough trot across the valley, fighting down the
+awful instinct to rise in his stirrups and "bob"; and then as the
+distant hills grew nearer the cowboys broke into a lope. They separated
+into two parties that formed the horns of a circle, dropping off man
+after man as they jumped up cattle, and still spurring on and on. The
+puncher with the weakest horse was dropped first, for there would be no
+chance to change till noon, and the best mounted was saved to the last
+in order to get his full strength. Bowles was on Wa-ha-lote, and he rode
+to the end before Henry Lee sent him back with the herd.
+
+Very slowly now he plodded along behind his bunch of cattle, riding back
+and forth as he picked up strays, and driving them all to some common
+center. To the right and left, and far across to distant hills, he could
+see lone men at their task, and the great plain became dotted with
+cattle as the circle closed in on the grounds. A hundred cow-trails,
+sinuous as snake-tracks, led in to this place they all sought, and when
+the lowing strings of cattle met it was on the flat by a dammed-up lake.
+There the herds were thrown together, carefully so that no mother should
+lose her calf; and while they stood them upon the cutting-ground the
+wrangler brought up his horses, and each man caught out a fresh mount.
+
+Nowhere in all his work is the mastery of the cowboy more apparent than
+when he changes horses on the open plain. The great remuda of over two
+hundred horses was driven in on the gallop; then the cowboys rounded
+them up, and each man dropped to the ground. One by one they took down
+their ropes and threw the loose ends to their neighbors, and there in a
+minute's time was a corral that would hold the wildest outlaw, for a
+rope is the greatest terror of a cow-pony. It was a rope that
+fore-footed him when he was a colt, and bound him at the branding; every
+morning the long, snaky loops whizzed past their ears and dragged out
+those who must ride till they were ready to drop; and so, even though
+they had the power to brush the rope fence aside, the frightened horses
+huddled away from it and submitted to the noose.
+
+Bowles was barred, for his Mother Hubbard roping threw the herd into a
+frenzy; so he saddled up for Brigham and let that doughty puncher drag
+out his mount. Then the cutting and branding began, and Henry Lee put
+him to flanking calves. Perhaps he, too, had heard of the tenderfoot's
+remarks about his daughter; or it may have been the original grouch; but
+Bowles knew from the look in his eye that he was elected to do his full
+share. So he labored on, trying to learn the tricks of the older
+flankers, and schooling himself to their stoical endurance.
+
+A heavy wind came up, sweeping the dust across the flat in clouds, and
+still the cutters rode and roped. They ate dinner in relays, turning
+their backs to the storm and bolting their grimy food in silence, and
+hurried back to the herd. The sparks from the branding-fire flew fifty
+feet in a line, and the irons would hardly hold heat in the wind; but
+they carried the work through to the end. Then they moved the herd to
+harder ground, and cut it between the gusts, when every horse turned
+tail and the riders shut their eyes. The ones and twos were lumped
+together, the strays turned loose on the plain, and the outfit plodded
+on to the east, driving their cut before them.
+
+That night they camped at a ranch, throwing down their beds in barns and
+sheds, and eating in the open. The next day they braved the wind and
+combed the distant mountain, riding far over the rocky slopes, and
+branding in a cañon. On the third day the wind brought up rain and
+sleet, and the mountains were powdered with snow, but the round-up moved
+on inexorably. Then the wind veered to the east and the air became
+bitter cold; Gloomy Gus could hardly cook for the gale that assaulted
+him, and the wrangler lost eight or ten horses; but still the hardy
+cowboys rode and cut and branded, for a round-up never stops for wind
+and weather.
+
+As for Bowles, his face was peeled and swollen, his eyes half-blinded by
+dust and wind, his body chilled through in spite of his clothes, and he
+saw himself in that company like a child among grown-up men. Half of the
+cowboys left their coats on the wagon until the day of the blizzard; and
+Brigham was still in his shirt-sleeves, having rolled up his coat with
+his bed and forgotten to bring his slicker. Yet none of them railed at
+the weather; no one quit; it was their life. Perhaps from their earliest
+boyhood they had braved the Texas northers or endured the continual
+sandstorms of high and windy plains. They were used to it, like the
+horses that bore them; but Bowles was a more delicate plant. All he
+could do was to live on from day to day, wondering at their courage and
+hardihood, and marveling at his own presumption in thinking he could
+play at their game.
+
+A week passed, and the wind grew warmer, though it still swept in from
+the southeast. The outfit reached the limit of its circle and turned
+toward home, sending its cuts of dogies on before it. On the first of
+May they were contracted to be delivered at Chula Vista, there to be
+shipped to Colorado and the Texas Panhandle and fattened into steers.
+But feed was short, for the cold had set back the grass, and Henry Lee
+had wired that he could deliver on the twentieth. So while he waited for
+an answer he sent his cattle ahead of him, and every day as he rode he
+watched for a messenger from home.
+
+Nor was he alone in this, for the messenger would be Dixie; but no one
+said a word. It was part of the patience of these rugged sons of the
+desert that they should make no sign. They were camped in a grove of
+sycamores beneath the shelter of a hill, and the outfit was gathered
+about the fire, when she rode in at the end of the day. Each man of them
+regarded her silently as she carried the word to her father; and then,
+when he nodded his satisfaction, they stirred in expectation of her
+greeting.
+
+"Howd-do, boys?" she said, vaulting lightly off her horse and coming
+nearer. "'Evening, Mr. Mosby; what's the chance for a little supper?"
+
+She looked them all over casually as she drew off her gloves by the
+fire, and for a few minutes the conversation was confined to news. Then
+she went back to her saddle, and returned with a bundle of letters.
+
+"Well, boys," she remarked, with a teasing smile, "I'm postmistress this
+trip, so line up here and give me your present names--also the names you
+went by back in Texas. 'James Doyle!' Why, is that your name, Red?
+Here's one for you, too, Uncle Joe. All right now, here's one from
+Moroni--for Charley Clark! Aw, Brig, are you still writing to that girl
+down on the river? Well, isn't that provoking! And here's a whole bunch
+for Hardy Atkins. Every one from a girl, too--I can tell by the
+handwriting. No, Mr. Buchanan, you don't draw anything--not under that
+name, anyway. But here's one for Sam Houghton--maybe that's for you? No?
+Well, who is it for? No, we can't go any further until I deliver this
+Houghton letter. Who is there here that answers to the name of Sam?"
+
+She glanced all around, a roguish twinkle in her eye, but no one claimed
+that honor.
+
+"Nothing to be afraid of," she urged. "It was mailed at Chula Vista, and
+written by a girl. Pretty handwriting, too--something like mine. I bet
+there's something nice inside of it--I can tell by the curly-cues on the
+letters."
+
+Once more she surveyed her circle of smirking admirers, but no one
+answered the call. She looked again, and her eyes fell on Mr. Bowles.
+
+"Stranger," she said, speaking with well-simulated hesitation, "I didn't
+quite catch your name down at the ranch--isn't this letter for you?"
+
+For a moment Bowles' heart stopped beating altogether and a hundred
+crazy fancies fogged his brain; then he shook his head, and gazed
+shamefacedly away.
+
+"My name is Bowles," he said stiffly; "Samuel Bowles."
+
+"Well, this says Samuel," reasoned Dixie Lee, advancing to show him the
+letter. "Here--take a look at it!"
+
+She stepped very close as she spoke, and as Bowles glanced at her he saw
+that her eyes were big with portent. Then he scanned the letter, and in
+a flash he recognized her handwriting--the same that he had seen on the
+train. A strange impulse to possess the missive swept over him at this,
+and his hand leaped out to seize it; but the look in her eyes detained
+him. They were big with mystery, but he sensed also a shadow of deceit.
+And while she might merely have designs on his peace of mind, there were
+other possibilities involved. To be sure, his name had been Houghton on
+his railroad ticket, but that did not prove anything now; and, besides,
+he did not want even that to be known. Affairs of the heart prosper best
+in secret, without the aid of meddling or officious outsiders; and for
+that reason, if for no other, Bowles desired to remain incog. Even with
+a false clue, Dixie May might write to New York, and ultimately reach
+his aunt, thus cutting short his romantic adventures. She might
+even--but he skipped the rest of the things she might do, and
+straightened his face to a mask.
+
+"Ah, thank you, no," he said, speaking very formally. "Not for
+me--though the handwriting does seem familiar."
+
+"Maybe it's money from home," she suggested; but still he refused to
+accept. He was ignorant of the ways of women, but his instincts were
+trained to a hair-line, and he read mischief in her heart. Yet curiosity
+almost tempted him to accede--or was it the witchery of her presence?
+For Dixie May stood very close to him, closer than was necessary, and as
+she argued, half in earnest, she fixed him with her eyes.
+
+The boys by the fire, who had been looking on in wonder, became suddenly
+restive and impatient. Their little game of post-office had been broken
+up in the middle, and this stranger was monopolizing the postmistress.
+
+"But the postmaster thought it was for you," persisted Dixie May, now
+apparently annoyed. "He described you down to your hat-band; and if I
+don't get rid of this letter I'll have to take it clear back to town. Of
+course----"
+
+"Aw, take the letter!" broke in Hardy Atkins, striding over from his
+place and fiercely confronting Bowles. "What's the matter with
+you--ain't you got no manners? Well then, when a lady asks you to take a
+letter, _take it_!"
+
+He reached out to get the letter and force it upon him forthwith, but
+Dixie May tossed her head and jerked the missive away.
+
+"Who called you in on this, Hardy Atkins?" she inquired, turning upon
+him haughtily. "It's a wonder you wouldn't go off somewhere and read
+those pink scented billets-doux I gave you. I reckon this man knows his
+own name without any outside help. Now, you go on away and let me do
+this!"
+
+He went, his lips pouted out petulantly and a shifty look in his eye,
+and once more the fair postmistress turned upon her victim.
+
+"Now, here," she said, lowering her voice and speaking confidentially,
+"I'm not trying to force this upon you, but I've got a duty to perform.
+Think of the poor lady that wrote this letter," she urged, smiling
+significantly; "she may have something important to tell you. And don't
+mind a little thing like an alias--these boys have all got one." Once
+more she smiled, holding out the letter; and the boys favored him with
+dark and forbidding glances; but Bowles was game to the end.
+
+"So sorry," he murmured, bowing deferentially; "but my name is Bowles,
+not Houghton."
+
+"Well, well," said Dixie Lee, looking him between the eyes; "so your
+name is Bowles, eh? I certainly hope you'll excuse me, stranger, but I
+sure thought your name was Houghton!"
+
+So saying, she turned and left him; and after pondering upon the matter
+for some time Bowles suddenly felt his heart go sick, for she had
+addressed him at the last as "Stranger."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE ENGLISH LORD
+
+
+A remarkable series of accidents happened to Bat Wing Bowles immediately
+after his discourtesy to the lady--accidents which seemed to indicate
+that he had lost his horseshoe as well as the good-will of his
+associates. For while Bowles had been a raw hand from the start it had
+early been remarked that horses would not pitch with him--but now, on
+the very morning after his contretemps, his mount took a fit of bucking
+which all but landed him in the dirt. A term of years in a military
+academy, as well as a considerable experience in riding to hounds, had
+left Bowles a little vain of his horsemanship; but in this emergency he
+had been compelled to reach down and frankly grab the horn. Otherwise he
+would have been "piled" before he could recover from the surprise. As it
+was, he was badly jarred, not only by the shock of the buck-jumps but
+also by the caustic comments of the cowboys.
+
+"Oh, mamma!" shouted one. "See 'im choke that horn!"
+
+"Let go of the noodle, Sam!" advised another; and then, in a kind of
+chant, they recited those classic lines that are supposed to drive
+Englishmen mad:
+
+"Hit's not the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse's 'oofs; hit's the 'ammer,
+'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway!"
+
+Time and again Bowles had explained that he was not English, that all
+gentlemen rose to the trot in the East, and that his people had never
+dropped an "h" in their lives. Like an old and groundless scandal that
+lives on denial alone, the tradition still clung to him; and now, as
+some vagrant fancy turned their will against him, they voiced their
+disapproval in this ancient gibe.
+
+"It's Hinglish, you know!" they shouted; and once more Bowles was
+branded as an alien. And all for refusing a letter and speaking saucily
+to a lady.
+
+As for the lady, she stayed at a ranch over night and went out early in
+the morning, taking a short-cut through the nesters' lanes for Chula
+Vista. A telegram must be sent to the receiving company that the cattle
+would be delivered on the twentieth, the cattle-cars must be ordered
+from the railroad, and the cattle inspector notified of the change; for
+the grass was eaten down to the rocks at Chula Vista, and a wait at the
+pens would be fatal. All these details Henry Lee trusted to his
+daughter, and, forgetting the frivolous nothings of yesterday, she rode
+past the Bat Wing outfit without stopping or waving her hand. Then
+somebody put something on Bowles' horse and they started the day with a
+circus.
+
+A second day, full of excitement and rough riding, followed, and then
+the gang took pity on the poor tenderfoot and left him to think it over.
+But Bowles was not broken in spirit; far from it, for he had been
+secretly longing for a horse that would buck. He was rapidly becoming so
+wise that deception was no longer practicable. When a man has an old
+staid cow-pony rise up under him and try to paw the white out of the
+moon, he is liable to look over his rigging rather carefully to see what
+it was all about; and if he should find a yellow spot on the flap of his
+saddle-blanket, a tender place on his horse's rump, and a suspicious
+odor of carbon bisulphide in the air, he is likely to shy away from
+unfriendly horsemen, even if he never heard of "high-lifing" a bronk.
+Those were eventful days for Samuel Bowles, and he found himself
+learning fast, when Henry Lee suddenly called him aside and told him to
+go with Brigham.
+
+Brigham was taking a bunch of dogies back to the home ranch and he
+needed a man to help him--also the boss was getting a little tired of
+these sudden accidents to Bowles. He was not conducting a circus or a
+Wild West Show but a serious and precarious business, and a touch of
+"high-life" at the wrong time might stampede his whole herd of cattle.
+So he told the tenderfoot to go on the drive with Brigham.
+
+There is a good deal left unsaid in a cow camp--so much, in fact, that a
+stranger never knows what is going on; and Brigham had been as silent as
+the rest while Bowles was taking his medicine. Even on the drive he was
+strangely quiet, chewing away soberly at his tobacco and looking out
+from under his hat with squinting and cynical eyes. They were friends
+now, as far as a tenderfoot can expect to have a friend, but Brigham
+said nothing about stringing the cattle, and asked no questions about
+gay New York--he had something on his mind. And when the time came he
+spoke it out.
+
+"Say, stranger," he said, still calling him by that cold name which
+marked him as a man apart, "did you see Dixie Lee back in New York last
+winter?"
+
+It was a bolt out of the blue sky; but Bowles was trained to
+evasions--he had lived in polite society and tried to keep friends with
+Truth.
+
+"Miss Lee?" he repeated in tones of wonderment.
+
+"W'y, sure," answered Brigham; "she was back there all winter."
+
+"So I hear," observed Bowles; "but there were about four million other
+people there too, Brig; so I can't say for sure. Why? What made you
+ask?"
+
+"Oh--nothin'," mumbled Brig, playing with the rowel on his spur as he
+watched the cattle graze; "only it seemed like, the way she spoke to you
+the other day, you'd mebbe met before. Some of the boys said they
+reckoned you knowed her back there--she talked so kinder friendly-like."
+
+A thrill went over Bowles at those kind words, but he hastened to cover
+up his tracks. Once let the boys know that he had followed her from the
+East, and there would be a dramatic end to all his hopes and dreams.
+
+"I'll tell you, Brig," he said, speaking confidentially; "I did meet
+Miss Lee down at Chula Vista the morning she came home, and that
+probably gave them the idea. But, say, now--about that letter. She
+didn't even know my name--now, why should she do a thing like that? My
+name isn't Houghton, and she knew I couldn't take the letter. It's
+against the law! What was she trying to do--play a joke on me?"
+
+He made his voice as boyish and pleading as possible; but it takes a
+good actor to deceive the simple-hearted, and Brigham only looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"What did you say yore name was?" he inquired at last; and when Bowles
+told him he chewed upon it ruminatively. "Some of the boys thought mebbe
+you was an English lord, or somethin'," he observed, glancing up quickly
+to see how Mr. Bowles would take it. "Course I knowed you wasn't," he
+admitted as Bowles wound up his protest; "but you certainly ain't no
+puncher."
+
+Bowles could read the jealousy and distrust in his voice, and he saw it
+was time to speak up.
+
+"Say, Brig," he said, trying as far as possible to speak in the new
+vernacular, "I've always been friendly to you, haven't I? I know I've
+tried to be, and I want to keep your friendship. Now, I don't care what
+Hardy Atkins and his gang think, because they're nothing to me anyway,
+but I want you to know that I am on the square. Of course, I'm under an
+assumed name, and I guess you've noticed I don't get any letters; but
+that's no crime, is it?"
+
+There was a genuine ring to his appeal now, and Brigham was quick to
+answer it.
+
+"Aw, that's all right, pardner," he said. "I don't care what you did.
+Kinder hidin' out myself."
+
+"Well, but I want to tell you, anyway," protested Bowles. "A man's got
+to have a friend somewhere, and I know you won't give me away. I didn't
+commit any crime--it isn't the sheriff I'm afraid of--but there must
+have been somebody down in Chula Vista that was following me, because I
+came away from New York on a ticket that was signed Sam Houghton. That
+isn't my name, you understand--but I signed it for a blind. Then I left
+the train at Albuquerque and came quietly off down here. But it looks as
+if somebody is searching for me."
+
+"Umm!" murmured Brigham, nodding his head and squinting wisely. "I got
+into a little racket down on the river one time, and the _sheriff_ was
+lookin' fer me. Made no difference--the feller got well anyhow--but you
+bet I was ridin' light fer a while.
+
+"_I_'ll tell you what we'll do!" he cried, carried away by some sudden
+enthusiasm. "I'm gittin' tired of this Teehanno outfit--let's call fer
+our time and hit the trail! Was you ever up in the White Mountains?
+Well, pardner, we'll head fer them--that's the prettiest country in
+God's world! Deer and bear and wild turkeys everywhere--and fish! Say,
+them cricks is so full of trout they ain't hardly room fer the water.
+The Apaches never eat 'em--nor turkeys neither, fer that matter--and all
+you have to have is a little flour and bacon, and a man can live like a
+king. They's some big cow outfits up there, too--Double Circles, an'
+Wine Glass an' Cherrycow. Come on! What d'ye say? Let's quit! This ain't
+the only outfit in America!"
+
+For the moment Bowles was almost carried away by this sudden rush of
+enthusiasm, and even after a second thought it still appealed to him
+strongly.
+
+"Are there many bears up there?" he inquired, as if wavering upon a
+decision.
+
+"Believe me!" observed Brigham, swaggering at the thought. "And mountain
+lions, too! A man has to watch his horses in that country, or he'll find
+himself afoot."
+
+"And the Indians?"
+
+"Well," admitted Brigham, "of course them Apaches are bad--but they keep
+'em around the Fort most of the time, and don't let 'em carry guns when
+they go out--nothin' but bows and arrows. Come on--they won't make us no
+trouble!"
+
+"Well, by Jove, Brig," sighed Bowles, drawing a long breath, "I'm
+awfully tempted to do it!"
+
+"Sure," nodded Brigham, "finest trip in the world--an' I know that
+country like a book!"
+
+"But let's finish the round-up first," suggested Bowles. "And, besides,
+I want to find out who it is that's searching for me. I guess I didn't
+tell you what I'm hiding for?"
+
+"No," shrugged Brigham; "that's all right. Then if anybody should ask
+me, I'll tell 'em I don't know nothin'."
+
+"Well, I'm going to tell you, anyhow!" cried Bowles impulsively. "I've
+got an aunt back East, and she's an awfully nice woman--does everything
+for me--but I have to do what she says. She doesn't _make_ me do it, you
+know--she just _expects_ me to do it! Maybe you never had any one like
+that? Well, I've always tried to do what she liked--she's my father's
+sister, you know--but this spring I just had to run away."
+
+"Too much fer you, eh?" commented Brigham, grinning.
+
+"No, it wasn't that so much, but she--she told me I ought to get
+married!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter?" inquired Brigham, his grin wreathing back to
+his ears. "What's the matter with that?"
+
+Bowles blushed and blinked with embarrassment.
+
+"Well, the fact is, Brigham," he said, "she picked out the girl
+herself!"
+
+"No! Never asked you, nor nothin'? What did the girl say?"
+
+"Oh, Christabel? Why, she never knew, of course. I came out West
+immediately."
+
+A puzzled look came over Brigham's honest face.
+
+"Say, lemme git the straight of this," he said. "I'm a kind of Mormon
+myself, you know, and these fellers are always throwin' it into me about
+the way Mormons marry off their gals--did yore aunt make some trade with
+her folks?"
+
+"Who--Christabel?" gasped Bowles, now breaking into a sweat. "Why, bless
+your soul, no! You don't understand how things are done in New York,
+Brig. Nothing was even _said_, you know, it was just understood! My aunt
+didn't even tell me whom she had in mind--she just told me I ought to be
+married, and threw me into Christabel's society. But I knew it--I knew
+it from the first day--and rather than hurt Christabel's feelings I just
+picked up and ran away!"
+
+"Well, I'll be durned!" observed Brigham, gazing upon him with wonder.
+"And we thought you was tryin' to git Dix!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BURYING THE HATCHET
+
+
+To the hard-riding cowboy of the plains, the subtleties of emotion and
+romance are a closed book--just as the hand that whirls the rope is too
+crabbed to play the violin. Some of us in this world must do the heavy
+work. Some hands must be knotted, some backs bent with labor, some brows
+furrowed with wind and weather and the hard realities of life; but in
+return the laborers gain the strength of the wind-tossed oak and the
+patience of the ages. There are others whose lot it is to write the
+poetry and paint the pictures and reach out into the great unknown for a
+thousand haunting chords and harmonies; but they are a people apart.
+Their very sensitiveness makes them unequal to the stress of life; their
+slender hands cannot perform hard labor, and their hearts cannot endure
+the monotony and anguish of unremitting toil--yet they have their place
+in the world.
+
+The time may come when the tasks and rewards will be divided again and
+each of us be given a more equal share, but until that day men will fall
+into classes--and neither will understand the other. Samuel Bowles had
+lived the protected life, but Brigham had buffeted his way. At the story
+of the Lady Christabel he stood agape, marveling at the man who could
+perceive such subtle advances, wondering at the nature that would flee
+for such a cause; but in the end he gazed upon him pityingly, and
+accepted him for his friend.
+
+"I'll tell you, pardner," he said, as they drifted their cattle along;
+"I'm up ag'inst it, too. They's a gal over on the river--don't make no
+difference about her name--but I used to think a lot of her. Wasn't
+skeered of her none, the way I am with Dix. She was an awful good girl,
+too--no fly ways or nothin'--an' I was kinder fixin' to marry her when I
+had this racket with the bishop. My folks are all Mormons, of course,
+and so are hers, and I like 'em well enough in certain ways, but I can't
+stand them dang priests. As long as I'm free I can pull out and go where
+I please, but the minute I marry and settle down I'm up ag'inst it
+proper."
+
+"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Bowles, thinking of all the awful
+things he had heard about the Saints, but discreetly holding his peace.
+"Will they punish you for running away?"
+
+"No," answered Brigham, shaking his head dolefully, "it ain't that--it's
+the things they make you do. I'm a renegade now--I don't pay tithes or
+nothin'--but if I settled down on the river I'd have to come in ag'in.
+Mebbe jist about the time I'm married they summon me fer a mission. Two
+years to some foreign country to bring in converts to the church--an'
+who's goin' to take care of my wife?"
+
+"Oh!" breathed Bowles sympathetically. "That _is_ bad! Why don't you get
+married and live somewhere else, then?"
+
+"That's jest it," frowned Brigham. "Gal's a Mormon too, and she won't
+come. So there I am!"
+
+"Ah!" said Bowles; and they rode a long time in silence.
+
+"That letter was from her," volunteered Brigham, jerking his head back
+toward the place where they had been camped, and after that he said no
+more. The old cynical look came into his squinted eyes, and he strung
+out the cattle methodically until they came to the home ranch. It was
+four o'clock in the afternoon then, and they lay over until the next
+day.
+
+The Bat Wing bunk-house was hardly a cheery lounging place. Outside of
+the illustrated magazine literature with which the walls were papered,
+the library consisted of three books--a boot, spur and saddle catalogue,
+"Lin McLean," and that classic of the cow camps, "Three Weeks." When the
+entire outfit was at "the home," Happy Jack was in the habit of reading
+choice passages of "Three Weeks" to his friends, he being the scholar of
+the bunch, and closing each selection with the remark: "Well, I reckon
+that's plain enough for you, ain't it?" And the boys would generally
+agree that it was.
+
+With the memory of Happy Jack still in mind, Bowles took shame to
+himself and read Owen Wister's "Lin McLean" instead, finding there a
+tenderfoot on another range who was worse even than himself. As things
+were coming now, Bowles hardly considered himself a tenderfoot any more.
+To be sure, he could not rope in the corral; but there were several
+local punchers in the same fix; and when it came to riding, he still had
+Wa-ha-lote in his string as a tribute to his skill as a fence jumper. He
+had also sat out a bucking fit or two when the boys put high-life on his
+horse; and, taken all in all he was not the worst rider in the outfit,
+by any means. As a branding hand, also, he was able to do his share; he
+had learned some of the rudiments of handling cattle; and his face had
+peeled off and tanned again, leaving him with a complexion in no wise
+different from that of his bronzed companions. And then, to top it all,
+he had won the friendship of Brigham, who was so good that he passed for
+a cowman.
+
+Poor old Brigham! He never said what was in that letter from his girl,
+but Bowles knew he was wrestling with his problem. His carefree laugh
+was silenced for the time and, after cooking up a little food in the
+kitchen that stood next to the bunk-house, he had caught up a fresh
+mount and ridden off alone. The windmill man and the fence mender were
+out on their rounds, and Bowles was reading "The Winning of the
+Biscuit-shooter" and wondering if it was true, when a horse trotted into
+the yard. Presently he heard a saddle hit the ground, and the pasture
+gate swing to, and then there was a clank of spurs on the stoop. The
+door swung open, and as he glanced up from where he lay he saw Dixie Lee
+looking in at him.
+
+The instincts of a lifetime prompted Bowles to rise to his feet and bow,
+but other instincts were crowding in on him now, and he only nodded his
+head. The memory, perhaps, of a fake letter to Samuel Houghton gave
+color to his indifference, and for the first time in his life he gazed
+at her with a shadow of disapproval. She was glorious indeed to look
+upon; but it is the heart that counts, and Dixie had seemed a little
+unkind. So he lay there with the book before him, and waited for her to
+speak. It was the first time they had been alone together since he had
+left her at Chula Vista, and it was not his part to make advances after
+what she had told him then.
+
+As for Dixie, she seemed suddenly embarrassed and ill at ease, though
+she carried it off with her usual frontier recklessness.
+
+"Hello there, cowboy!" she said, dropping down on the steps. "Where'd
+you come from?"
+
+"I came from the upper water with Brig," answered Bowles, speaking for
+his part with decorous politeness. "We brought down a bunch of twos."
+
+A smile swept over Dixie Lee's face at this lapse into the vernacular,
+but she brushed it away as he frowned.
+
+"Bunch of twos, eh?" she repeated. "Say, you're getting to be a regular
+cowboy now, ain't you?
+
+"Where's Brig?" she inquired, when she saw that her remark displeased
+him; and once more he answered and fell silent.
+
+"He's a great fellow, old Brig," she went on, settling herself
+comfortably against the door-sill and indicating that the conversation
+was on; "you seem to be pretty thick with him!"
+
+"Yes," agreed Bowles, sitting up and laying his book aside; "I like
+Brigham very much."
+
+"He's a great fellow to tell stories," continued Dixie; "always talking
+and laughing, too--I never did see such a good-natured man."
+
+"Yes," assented Bowles a little doubtfully; "I guess he's awfully
+good-natured--but even fat folks have their troubles, you know."
+
+"Why, what's the matter with Brig? Has he run out of chewing tobacco?"
+
+"Well, no," said Bowles; "it's not that. I guess it's that letter you
+gave him."
+
+"Letter!" repeated Dixie incredulously. "What, from his girl? Oh, he'll
+be all right in a day or so--who ever heard of a cowboy going into a
+decline? And say, talking about letters, why didn't you take that one I
+wrote you the other day? I had something mighty special to communicate
+to you in that, but you'll never get it now! I hope the boys did
+something to you!"
+
+"Yes," answered Bowles serenely; "they hazed me for a day or two. You
+seem to have a great many admirers out here, Miss Lee."
+
+Dixie May's eyes flashed at the evident implication, and she had a
+retort on her lips, but something in his manner restrained her.
+
+"How can I help it if the boys get foolish?" she demanded severely. "And
+you don't want to let your Eastern ideas deceive you--it's the custom of
+the country out here."
+
+"Yes, indeed," purled Bowles; "and a very pretty custom, too. Have you
+just come back from Chula Vista?"
+
+"Yes, I have!" snapped Dixie. "But you don't need to get so superior
+about it! I guess I can do what I please, can't I?"
+
+"Why, certainly," assented Bowles.
+
+"Well, then, what do you want to get so supercilious for?" raged Dixie.
+"I don't know, there's something about the way you talk that fairly
+maddens me! I've a good mind to tell the boys who you are, and have them
+run you out of the country! Why didn't you take that letter I wrote
+you?"
+
+She was angry now, and her voice was pitched high for a scolding, but
+Bowles showed no signs of fear.
+
+"The letter you wrote was addressed to Samuel Houghton," he said; "and
+that is not my name."
+
+"Well, what is your name, then?" demanded Dixie. "Bowles?"
+
+For a moment Bowles gazed at her, and there was a pained look in his
+eyes--what if his beloved should turn out to be a scold?
+
+"Why do you ask?" he inquired; and so gently did he say it that she
+faltered, as if ashamed.
+
+"Well," she said, "I guess it isn't any of my business, _is_ it? I don't
+know what I'm doing here, anyway. If there's any one thing that makes
+Mother furious, it's to see me hanging around the bunk-house. She thinks
+I----"
+
+She rose suddenly, and shook out her skirt, but Bowles did not protest.
+
+"You don't seem to care whether I go or not?" she pouted.
+
+"Quite the contrary, I assure you, Miss Lee," declared Bowles earnestly.
+"But I'm not on my own ground now, and--well, I don't wish to take
+advantage of your hospitality."
+
+"No," said Dixie with gentle irony, "nothing like that! You want to be
+careful how you treat these Arizona girls--they're liable to
+misunderstand your motives!"
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU WANT TO BE CAREFUL HOW YOU TREAT THESE ARIZONA
+GIRLS!'"]
+
+Bowles' eyes lighted up with a merry twinkle, but he preserved his poker
+face.
+
+"Oh, I hope not!" he said; and then both of them smiled very knowingly.
+
+"The reason I wanted to get your name," observed Dixie, sitting down and
+smoothing out her skirt again, "was in case you got hurt or killed. Who
+am I going to write to in case you go out like Dunbar? Houghton? Bowles?
+Or who-all? You know, I feel kind of responsible for you, considering
+the way you got out here, and----"
+
+"Oh, don't think of that!" protested Bowles, coming over and sitting
+near her. "If I get hurt, the boys will take care of me; and if I get
+killed--well, it won't matter then what you do."
+
+"Well, don't get killed," urged Dixie kindly. "And if you get hurt,
+Mother and I will nurse you back to health and strength."
+
+"Oh, will you?" cried Bowles. "I'll remember that, you may be sure! But,
+speaking of names, has there been any one in Chula Vista inquiring for
+Samuel Houghton?"
+
+"Now, you see!" exclaimed Dixie Lee triumphantly. "If you'd opened that
+letter I had for you, you'd have found out about it. As it is, you'll
+just have to keep on guessing--I'm mad!"
+
+"I'm sorry," said Bowles. "The reason I asked was, Brig and I are
+planning to make a little trip somewhere, and if I thought there was any
+one searching for me I'd----"
+
+"Oh, you don't need to run away!" explained Dixie hurriedly. "I'll tell
+you when to skip--but you don't know what you missed by not reading that
+letter I wrote you!"
+
+"Well, direct the next one to Bowles, then!" he pleaded. "But, no
+joking, I wish you wouldn't call attention to that other name--it's
+likely to get me into difficulties."
+
+"What kind of difficulties?" inquired Dixie Lee demurely; but Bowles
+only shook his head.
+
+"I'm very sorry I can't tell you," he said; "but it means a great deal
+to me."
+
+"Maybe I can help you," she suggested.
+
+"Yes, indeed, you can!" assured Bowles, drawing nearer and smiling his
+naive smile. "Just don't tell anybody what you know, and let me have a
+chance. I've always been shut off from the world, you know--I've never
+had a chance. Just let me fight my way and see if I'm not a man. I know
+I'm new, and there are lots of things that come hard for me; but give me
+a chance to stay and maybe I'll win out. You don't know, Miss Lee, how
+much I treasure those stories you told me--when we were coming West on
+the train, you know. Don't you know, I think you have more of the
+feeling, more of the fine spirit of the West, than any one I have met.
+These cowboys seem so barren, some way; they seem to take it as a matter
+of course. And they all stay away from me--except Brigham. I don't get
+many stories now."
+
+He paused and Dixie May eyed him curiously. He was not the same man who
+had traveled with her on the train. A month had made a difference with
+him. But there was still the boyish innocence that she liked.
+
+"You mean stories about outlaws and Indians?" she said. "Hunting and
+trapping, and all that?"
+
+"Yes!" nodded Bowles, glancing over at her appealingly. "Where does that
+old trapper, Bill Jump, live? You know--the one you were telling about!"
+
+"Oh, Bill? He lives up here on the Black Mesa--anywhere between here and
+the New Mexico line--and he sure is one of the grandest liars that ever
+breathed, too. I remember one time----"
+
+Bowles settled himself inside the doorway and drank in the magical tale.
+It was as if the Old West rose up before him, blotting out the
+barbed-wire fences and the lonely homes of the nesters and bringing back
+the age of romance that he sought. He questioned her eagerly, still
+watching her with his boyish, admiring eyes, and Dixie plunged into
+another. The sun, which was getting low, swung lower and a door slammed
+up at the big house. Then a reproachful voice came floating down, and
+Dixie jumped up from her seat.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "There's Maw--seems like I never get any
+peace! But, anyway, this old bear with the trap on his foot picked up
+Bill's gun and threw the chamber open, then he looked up into the tree
+where Bill was hanging and crooked his finger--like that! And Bill Jump
+said he knowed it jest as if that ol' b'ar spoke--he was signaling him
+to throw him down a cartridge, so he could put Bill out of his misery!
+Or that was what Bill said. But, say, I've got to be running--come up to
+the house to-night and let me tell you the rest of it! Oh, pshaw, we
+know what your motives are! Come along anyhow! And bring Brig with you!
+All right--good-by!"
+
+She gave him a dizzy smile over her shoulder as she fled, and Bowles
+blinked his eyes to find the world so fair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE STRAW-BOSS
+
+
+It is the philosophy of the poseurs in pessimism that for every happy
+moment we have in life we pay at a later date a greater price. Of
+course, any one who ever took a kid to the circus knows better, but
+there are times when the doctrine seems to hold. When Bowles returned to
+the round-up, the news of his perfidy had preceded him--he had taken
+advantage of his position and spent the evening at the big house!
+Thereupon the hotheads lowered upon him malignantly, and Hardy Atkins
+hunted up his high-life bottle.
+
+The accepted function of carbon bisulphide in the great Southwest is to
+kill off prairie-dogs. A tablespoonful poured on a cow-chip and rolled
+down a dog hole will asphyxiate the entire family. The same amount
+poured on a man's horse will make the man think he has been shot with a
+pack-saddle, and that was what happened to Bowles. When he became too
+wary for the bottle, they resorted to other means, and finally he
+detected the bronco-twister with a loaded syringe in his hand.
+
+"Now, that will do, Mr. Atkins," he observed with some asperity. "It's
+all right for you boys to haze me a little, but my horses are getting
+spoiled and I'll have to ask you to stop."
+
+"Oho!" shouted Bar Seven and the stray men, who had sweethearts in other
+parts and dearly loved excitement. "He caught you at it, Hardy! Now what
+you goin' to do?"
+
+"I ain't goin' to do nothin'," declared Hardy Atkins, carefully stowing
+his squirt-gun away. "No Hinglishman looks bad to me, and I'll high-life
+him whenever I like!"
+
+"You will not!" said Henry Lee, coming up as he heard the words. "I've
+had enough of this foolishness, and I want you to quit right now. First
+thing you know that hawse will pitch into the herd and we'll have a
+stampede on our hands. Now, come ahead and clean out this pasture, we'll
+start the drive for town."
+
+They rounded up the pastures then, one after the other, and soon the
+great herd of dogies was strung out on the road. At regular distances
+along the flanks the swing men plodded along; toward the front the two
+point men directed the head of the herd; and, behind, the remainder of
+the men brought up the drag. They traveled slowly, sometimes swinging
+out into the hills and letting the cattle feed, and as they drifted
+along over the rock-patches the _clack, clack, clack_ of splay-toed
+hoofs made a noise like rain on the roof. At intervals some stubborn
+two-year-old would break from the tail of the herd, some fresh-branded
+calf fall by the wayside, to be left for another drive; but the day of
+the steer is past on the lower ranges of the great Southwest, and
+feeders are easier to handle. So they dragged on, drifting over to the
+river for water and back onto the plains for the night, and many a
+nester's fence was laid flat as they jerked it to turn out the strays.
+Then, at the end of the third day, they came within sight of Chula Vista
+and Henry Lee rode on ahead.
+
+"Hardy," he said as he turned his horse toward town, "I'll leave you in
+charge of the herd. Put them into the pens for the night, and hold the
+remuda out on the flats. I'll be down as soon as I find my men. And,
+remember, no drinking!"
+
+He looked very hard at his straw-boss as he spoke, and Hardy Atkins
+answered him dutifully; but when the boss was gone he turned and winked
+at his partners.
+
+"You hear me now, boys," he said. "No drinkin'! You know the rule--you
+cain't drink whisky and work fer Henry Lee! Umph-umm! But I hope to Gawd
+some of them town boys come out with a bottle!"
+
+He smacked his lips as he spoke, and made up a funny face.
+
+"I got three months' pay comin' to me," he remarked, and went spurring
+up to the front.
+
+"I never seen the time yet," observed Buck Buchanan, as he loafed
+philosophically along with the drag, "that I couldn't git another job
+somewhere. When I've got money comin' to me, I want to spend it, by
+Joe!"
+
+"Sure!" agreed Happy Jack, who had been singing songs all day. "What's
+the use of workin', anyway?"
+
+"That's me!" chimed in Poker Bill. "Let's quit and draw our pay!"
+
+"Put these cows in the pen first," said Jack, snapping his fingers and
+waltzing airily in his saddle.
+
+    "Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies,
+      It's all yore misfortune and none of my own.
+    Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies,
+      'Cause you know my whistle is dry as a bone."
+
+It was a new experience to Bowles, this riding into a cow town, and he
+viewed with wide-eyed alarm the evidences of dissolution and revolt.
+Even Brigham was licking his lips and gazing at the town; and when the
+first bottle came out he took a long drink with the rest. Bowles excused
+himself, and wondered what would happen; but the half-drunken cowboy who
+brought out the life-saver never gave him a second look. It was not so
+hard to dispose of whisky in those parts.
+
+As the herd neared town, the idle and curious came riding out to see it,
+and Bowles was pained to notice certain painted women, who seemed to
+know the boys by their first names. They rode along the herd, waving
+handkerchiefs and shouting greetings, and a sudden distrust of frontier
+morality came over him as he observed the shameless response. The
+shipping pens were below the town about a mile--a barren square of
+whitewashed fencing, backed up to a side-track full of empty
+stock-cars--and as the weary cattle dragged along across the flats Hardy
+Atkins and a bunch of punchers cut off the leaders and whooped them on
+ahead. There was a jam at the gates, a break or two, and then the first
+timid dogie stepped fearfully into the enclosure. The smell of water in
+the troughs lured him on, the rest followed, and when the main herd came
+up it was artfully tailed on to the drag.
+
+At last! The high gate swung to on the harvest of the long round-up, and
+the punchers raced their horses to be first at the waiting chuck-wagon.
+In an angle of the fence Gloomy Gus had unpacked his ovens and set up
+his fire irons, and now as they flew at their supper he surveyed them
+with cynical calm.
+
+"Whar's Henry Lee?" he inquired at length; and Hardy Atkins pointed back
+to town with his knife.
+
+"He's over lookin' up his buyer," he said. "I'm the boss now, Cusi; what
+can I do fer you?"
+
+"Oh, you're boss now, are you?" repeated Gus, with heavy scorn. "Well,
+then, why don't you send some one out to relieve thet hawse wrangler?
+He'll be turnin' the remuda loose pretty soon, from the way he's been
+makin' signs."
+
+"Aw, he'll keep!" laughed the straw-boss. "Hey, fellers, who wants the
+first guard to-night?"
+
+Nobody spoke.
+
+"Somebody's got to stand guard," he observed, running his eyes over the
+crowd. "First guard's the best--eight to half-past ten. Bill? Jim? Hank?
+Well, I'll make it Jim and Hank, anyhow--only way to keep 'em in camp.
+You boys know Mr. Lee's orders--no drinkin' now--I don't want to find
+you downtown!"
+
+"Aw-haw-haw!" roared the crowd. That was a good one--he didn't want to
+find them downtown! Well, what would _he_ be doing down there?
+
+"Well, who's goin' to relieve us?" inquired Hank plaintively. "Last time
+we was down I had to stand guard all night!"
+
+The bronco-twister ran his eyes over the crowd again, as if searching
+for some one.
+
+"Where's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" he demanded
+facetiously. "He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--and
+Hinglish, too. Hinglish, I'll ask you and yore Mormon friend, Mr. Clark,
+to kindly stand the second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Jack and Buck
+fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand guard."
+
+"Oh, thunder!" grumbled Brig, as he threw himself down on his bed. "I
+wish the boss would come back. Them rounders will stay in town all
+night. Let's take a little flier ourselves," he urged as Bowles lay down
+beside him. "We can git back in time!"
+
+But a sudden sense of responsibility had come over Bowles as he observed
+how the crowd faded away, and he held Brigham to his post. At
+ten-thirty, in response to a hurried summons, they took a spare blanket
+for warmth and rode out to stand their guard.
+
+The stars wheeled round in their courses and sank down in the west; the
+horses shifted about on the barren plain and made their customary
+efforts to escape; and when the first cold light of dawn crept in, it
+showed "Hinglish" and his Mormon friend still standing their lonely
+vigil.
+
+But for once in a lifetime self-sacrificing virtue got its reward, for
+Henry Lee came riding out with his buyer at daylight and discovered them
+at their post. He did not say much--in fact he did not say anything--and
+Brigham and Bowles did the same; but there was a difference in the air.
+At last Bowles had justified his existence--he had stayed with his job
+to the end.
+
+There was a hurried searching of the town for Bat Wing cowboys, a
+straggling return of drunken and mutinous punchers, and then, with
+barely men enough to man the gates, the work of shipping began. By twos
+and threes the dogies were driven down a lane; the cattle inspector read
+the brands and made his tally, and the buyer passed them on or cut them
+back. Then, as the cutting and re-cutting was finished, the cattle were
+punched up the chutes and crowded into the cars. As the day wore on,
+more and more of the hands returned and took up the prod pole; but Henry
+Lee made no remarks. Even when his trusted straw-boss showed up late, he
+made no comment; but once back in camp he pulled his book like a pistol,
+and began to write out checks.
+
+"Well, boys," he said, "you were drunk last night; I'll have to give you
+your time. Hardy, you're a good cow-hand, but I'll have to let you go,
+too. So here's your time checks; and turn your horses out. I've got to
+have men I can trust."
+
+There was a heavy silence at this, for all the outfits in the country
+were full-handed now, and no one was looking for men. And Henry Lee was
+a good man to work for--he treated his hands white, fed them well, and
+paid the top price to boot. He also kept the best of them over winter,
+while others were riding the chuck-line or hanging around livery-stables
+in town. But nobody said a word, for they knew it would do no good; and,
+after he had paid them off and gone back to town, the luckless ones who
+had been fired drew off by themselves and talked the matter over. To be
+sure, they had the price of a drunk in their clothes; but they were
+fired and put afoot now, and town has no allurements to a cowboy unless
+he can ride in on a horse. So Hardy Atkins and his Texas followers
+lolled sulkily around the camp, sleeping fitfully in their blankets and
+glowering at Brigham Clark and the few careful spirits who had escaped
+their employer's wrath. And in particular they glowered at Bowles, the
+virtuous and dutiful, and hated him above all the rest for his air of
+conscious rectitude.
+
+Supper that evening offered no appeal to the drink-shaken carousers, but
+they stayed for it all the same, hoping against hope that the boss would
+come back and give them another chance. But they knew him too well to
+think it--Henry Lee would let his whole calf crop grow up to be
+mavericks before he would take back his word. Still they waited, and
+along toward sundown, as luck would have it, he came out; and with him,
+riding like a queen on her spirited horse, came Dixie May. She looked
+them over coldly, returning short answers to their shamefaced greetings
+and saving a smile for the cook.
+
+"Good-evening, Mr. Mosby," she said, pouring out a little coffee for
+politeness' sake. "And so these boys had to go on a drunk and get fired,
+did they? Well, you won't have so many to cook for now--that'll be one
+consolation."
+
+"Yes, Miss Dix," agreed the cook, "but mighty little, believe me! One
+cowboy is jest about as ornery an' no 'count as the other--and whisky
+gits 'em all. They're all alike--I been cookin' for 'em fer thirty
+years, off an' on, and they ain't one of 'em is worth the powder to blow
+'im to--excuse me, Miss Dix. But, as I was sayin', take 'em as they
+come, and keep 'em out of town, and these boys is pretty fair--pretty
+fair; I'm sorry to see 'em go."
+
+At this kindly word of intercession, a new light came into the eyes of
+the unemployed; but Dixie Lee had come on a mission, and it was not her
+policy to yield in a minute.
+
+"Well, _I'm_ not!" she declared. "If you'd listened to the amount of
+foolishness that I've suffered from these boys, Mr. Mosby; if you'd
+heard 'em say how they were going to save their wages and buy a little
+bunch of cows--and tell about the quarter-section of land they had their
+eye on--and swear, so help me God, they'd never take another drink of
+whisky as long as they lived--I believe you'd be glad to get rid of
+'em!"
+
+She turned and ran her eye over the crowd, and both the just and the
+unjust quailed before her.
+
+"And so you were drunk, were you, Mr. Atkins?" she inquired, fixing her
+gaze upon the deposed straw-boss; and Hardy Atkins shot a look at her
+which was both confession and appeal.
+
+"And you, Jack?" she continued severely.
+
+"Yes, ma'am," spoke up Happy Jack, upon whom the severity of her manner
+was lost. "I was drunk, all right."
+
+"Well, you don't need to be proud of it!" she observed cuttingly. "It's
+no distinction in this bunch. Brig, were you drunk, too?"
+
+"No, ma'am," responded Brigham promptly.
+
+"Oh, what's the use of talking?" scoffed Dixie, glancing at his swollen
+face and bloodshot eyes.
+
+"All the same, I wasn't!" denied Brigham boldly. "I reckon you'd look
+kind of bug-eyed if you'd been standin' guard all night!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter with your face then?" she demanded. "Did the
+ground rise up and hit you?"
+
+"No, but an old cow did, over in the shippin' chute!" And Brigham drew
+himself up and grinned defiantly. It was not often that he had a chance
+to assume this high moral pose, and he decided to make the most of it.
+
+"That's right," interposed Henry Lee, who so far had let his daughter do
+all the talking. "Brig and Bowles stood guard all night and brought up
+the remuda in the morning. I won't forget that, Brig," he added
+significantly. "I'm looking for men I can trust."
+
+"Well, good for you, Brig!" commented Dixie May, smiling with sudden
+approval; and at that the other suitors fell into a black rage of
+jealousy and distrust. There was silence for a while, and then Happy
+Jack spoke up.
+
+"Mr. Lee," he said, "I know I was drunk last night--my own fault, of
+course--but here's the proposition. You got to take on somebody to do
+yore work; what's the use of hirin' these town bums when you can git
+yore old hands back? That's the way we stand, and I hope you'll give us
+a chance."
+
+This was a long speech for Jack, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as
+he waited for the answer. The rest of the unemployed rumbled their
+acquiescence to the statement and watched for some sign of weakening;
+but Henry Lee did not change his frown.
+
+"I'm looking for men I can trust," he said at last. "These boys here
+stayed in camp and were on hand to help with the shipping. Maybe some of
+them ain't quite as good cowboys as you are, but I can depend on them
+not to turn my remuda loose the first night I leave 'em alone, and I'm
+going to make them top hands. You fellows get the top mounts and
+forty-five a month," he added, glancing briefly at Brig and the faithful
+few, most of whom were nesters boys, and married men working for a
+stake; "and I want some more just like you."
+
+"But how about us?" inquired Happy Jack after a silence. "I'll take on
+for a green hand, myse'f--forty dollars--and ride bronks, too. And I
+know that upper range like a book!"
+
+"Sure!" murmured the rest; and once more they waited on Henry Lee.
+
+He sat for a while studying on the matter, and then he exchanged glances
+with his daughter.
+
+"If he takes you back, are you going to run it over these other hands
+and make a lot of trouble?" she inquired shrewdly. "Because if you
+are----"
+
+A chorus of indignant denials answered this unjust accusation, and Dixie
+Lee's face became clear.
+
+"Then I'd take 'em back," she said.
+
+"No, I won't do it," rapped out Henry Lee. "But I'll tell you what I
+will do," he went on, as the gang lopped down despondently. "You boys
+have got your time checks. All right, you go up town and cash them in,
+and if you can pay your saloon debts and get out of town sober, I'll
+take you on. But if any man takes a drink, or brings out a bottle, he'll
+never ride for Henry Lee again--I've lost enough horses through drunken
+punchers. Brig, I'll leave you in charge of the outfit."
+
+He swung up on his horse as he spoke, and Dixie rode away after him,
+followed by the admiring gaze of all hands and the cook. Henry Lee was a
+good boss, but the average Texas cow-puncher is not weak-kneed enough to
+court the favor of any man. Once he is fired, he takes his money and
+spends it philosophically; but in this case Dixie May had intervened,
+and rather than lose their chance with her the whole gang had taken
+lessons in humility.
+
+"She's all right," observed Happy Jack, wagging his head and smiling as
+he watched her off. "She wraps him around her little finger."
+
+"Wonder how she come to be down here?" inquired a new hand; and Jack
+answered him, with a laugh.
+
+"Ridin' herd on the old man, of course!" he said.
+
+"Sure!" grumbled Hardy Atkins. "The old lady is up there, too. That's
+the one thing I got ag'inst Henry Lee--he's been a booze-fighter and
+quit. That's what makes him so doggoned onreasonable!"
+
+"They say John B. Gough and Sam Jones was reformed drunks, too,"
+commented Poker Bill sagely; but there was one member present who did
+not take even a philosophical interest in the discussion. It was Brigham
+Clark, the new straw-boss. Through a chain of circumstances a little
+hard to trace, he had refrained from his customary periodical, and,
+behold, of a sudden he was elevated above all his fellows, and placed in
+a position of authority.
+
+"Well," he broke in sharply, "it's gittin' dark--who's goin' to relieve
+that horse wrangler? Bill? Buck? Well, I'll put you on the first guard,
+anyhow--only way to save you from yorese'ves!"
+
+"Aw, listen to the big fat stiff!" commented Buck Buchanan, who felt the
+need of a nap; but Brig paid no attention to his remarks.
+
+"You boys bring them in to the pen fer a drink," he ordered, with
+pompous circumstance, "and hold them out on yon flat. Who wants to stand
+second guard? Jim? Hank?" He craned his neck about as Hardy Atkins had
+done the night before; and Hardy, who had been thinking about other
+things, sat up with a sudden scowl.
+
+"Whar's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" demanded
+Brigham, imitating with roguish accuracy the broad Texas accent of his
+predecessor. "He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--comes
+from Texas, too. Mr. Atkins, I'll ask you and yore cotton-picker friend,
+Happy Jack, to kindly stand second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Sam
+and Slim fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand no guard!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AND HIS SQUIRREL STORY
+
+
+The upper range of the Bat Wing was a country by itself. To reach it
+they rode due north from Chula Vista, following an old road that had
+been fenced so many times that Gloomy Gus became discouraged. Twisting
+and turning, driving around through new-made lanes, or jerking a world
+of staples and laying the wire on the ground, he toiled on in the wake
+of the outfit, which was rounding up spare corners of the unfenced
+range. Behind him came the horse wrangler and his helper, doing their
+best to keep the remuda out of the barbed-wire, and jerking up more
+fence with their ropes than Gus laid down with his nail-puller.
+Certainly in that wide, windmill-dotted valley, the open range was a
+thing of the past. It was only thirty feet to water, and the nesters
+were settling everywhere.
+
+"One more day like that," observed Gloomy Gus as he threw together a
+late supper, "and I quit!"
+
+"Me too!" chimed in the wrangler; and the punchers felt much the same.
+
+"A few more years like this last," remarked Henry Lee, gazing gloomily
+out across his former estate, "and we'll all quit. But, thank God, they
+can't farm the Black Mesa."
+
+On the second day they turned east, crossing the boggy river and
+mounting up on a great plateau, and then Bowles saw why Henry Lee's
+remark was true. The Black Mesa was high and level, with a wealth of
+coarse grass on the flats and wooded hills behind; but hills and flats
+alike were covered with a layer of loose rocks that made the land a
+wilderness. Even the wagon road on which they traveled was a mere rut
+across the rock patch, and from a distance it looked like a ruined stone
+wall where the rocks had been thrown to both sides. And the rocks were
+black, a scorched, volcanic black, with square corners and uneroded
+edges that gashed at the horses' ankles. Deep-cut cañons wound
+tortuously across the level mesa, their existence unsuspected until the
+rider stopped at their brink; and, hidden in their sullen depths, the
+scant supply of water was lost to all but the birds.
+
+Yet to the cowboys the landscape was cheering, for there was bunch-grass
+between the rocks and not a house in sight. It is hard to please
+everybody in this world, but cowboys are easily pleased. All they want
+is a good horse and plenty of swing room, and a landscape gardener
+couldn't make it better. To Bowles the lower valley had been a wild and
+unsettled country, but he found that even the Black Mesa was tame to
+these seasoned nomads.
+
+"Jest wait till I take you to the White Mountains," said Brig, as he
+rode by his side. "This country has all been fed off till they's nothin'
+much left but the rocks--no game nor nothin'. But the Sierra Blancas are
+different--that's them over that far ridge."
+
+He pointed at a filmy point of white, half lost between the blue of the
+pine-clad mountains and the blue of the sky beyond, and Bowles' heart
+leaped up at the sight. At last he was in the Far West--that strange,
+elusive country of which so many speak and which is yet so hard to
+find--and the untrod wilderness lay before him. The Sierra Blancas, home
+of the deer and the bear and the wolf and the savage Apache Indians!
+Even in his age and time, there was still a wilderness to conquer and
+the terrors of the old frontier to stir the blood.
+
+"How far is it?" he inquired, his eyes questing out the way; and when
+Brig told him he reached over and clutched his hand. "Brig," he cried,
+"I want to go there. I'd like to go right now!"
+
+He looked across at his partner, but Brigham did not answer, and Bowles
+knew what was in his mind.
+
+"Of course, now that you're made foreman----" he began; but Brig smiled
+a cynical smile.
+
+"Don't you let that worry you none," he growled. "The way these Texicans
+is takin' on, I don't reckon I'll last very long. Hardy Atkins is the
+leader of this bunch, and he's bound to git his job back--I'm jest
+holdin' on fer spite."
+
+"But how can he get it back?" protested Bowles. "Mr. Lee told me you
+were one of the best cowmen he ever knew, and you certainly know the
+range all right----"
+
+"Yes, but that ain't it," put in Brig. "Here's the proposition. Henry
+Lee is gittin' old--he can't be his own wagon-boss forever, and he's
+lookin' round for a man. The man that gits the job will git more than
+that--he'll marry Dixie Lee."
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" cried Bowles. "Why should he?"
+
+"Don't know why," answered Brigham doggedly. "Only that's the way it
+always goes--and Hardy, he wants Dixie."
+
+"But surely, after the way he conducted himself down at Chula Vista----"
+
+"Oh, that's nothin'," asserted Brigham.
+
+"You think she would marry him?"
+
+"Don't know," grumbled Brig. "She's got us all a-guessin'. All I know
+is, I won't last long as a straw-boss. You wait till we git up in the
+mountains where old Henry can't git no more hands, and then watch the
+fur begin to fly. Didn't they all eat dirt to git took back fer green
+hands? Didn't you see 'em talkin' it over? All they got to do now is to
+git _us_ fired, and then _they'll_ be the top hands. Huh! That's easy!"
+
+The second-in-command would say no more, but a few days gave token of
+the coming storm. As they pulled in at the upper ranch, where cowboys
+and "station-men" did duty all the year, the stray men from other
+outfits threw in with them again and increased their number to a scant
+twenty. Bar Seven was there, after a return to his own headquarters, and
+several of the other men; but the men who dwelt in the hills were of a
+different breed, with hair long and beards scrubby, and overalls greasy
+from lonely cooking; and they looked at Bowles askance.
+
+"Who's that feller?" they asked; and the answer was always the same, if
+they asked it of a Texan.
+
+"Oh, that's a young English dude," they said. "He's got his eye on
+Dixie."
+
+Strange how these men of the frontier were so quick to read his
+heart--Bowles had talked with Dixie Lee only twice in a month but they
+had read him like a book. Or perhaps it was just plain jealousy, since
+they, too, had their eyes on Dixie--jealousy and a sneaking knowledge
+that he had a chance to win. They cast appraising glances at his
+expensive saddle, his silver-mounted spurs and eleven-dollar Stetson,
+and hated him for his prosperity; they watched him work in the corral,
+and scoffed at him for his horsemanship; and when he talked, they
+listened to his broad "a's," his soft "r's" and his purling "er's" with
+wonder and contempt. Not that they listened very much, for they took
+pains to break in on him as grown folks do when a child is speaking; but
+they curled their lips at his coming, and exchanged glances behind his
+back, and finally, as the work progressed, their hostility began to take
+form.
+
+For three days the outfit lay at headquarters while fresh horses were
+caught and shod; and here Hardy Atkins and his followers suffered the
+humiliation of losing their mounts. As top hands they had taken the pick
+of the remuda, the fleetest runners, the gentlest night horses, the
+best-reined cutting horses; but now in the reapportionment they found
+themselves reduced to "skates and bronks." Three days of shoeing the
+skates, and especially the bronks, did not tend to sweeten their tempers
+any, and as they moved up to Warm Springs and began to rake the range
+the spirit of rebellion broke loose.
+
+Warm Springs lies at the bottom of a gash in the face of the mesa, and
+the cow-trails lead to it for miles. Above there is no water, below it
+is shut in by the rim of the cañon, and the cattle file down the long
+trail day and night. Consequently the nearby grass is fed down to the
+roots, and the remuda had to be held up on the high mesa. All day the
+horse wrangler grazed his charges in distant swales, bringing them in
+for water and the horse-changing morning and noon; and at night the
+cowboys watched them beneath the cold stars--that is, when they kept
+awake.
+
+On the second morning three horses were missing, the next day two more,
+and on the next eight horses more were gone and several men were
+practically afoot.
+
+"Who let those horses get away?" demanded Henry Lee, as he rounded up
+his night herders by the corral.
+
+"Not me!" said the members of the first guard.
+
+"We never stopped ridin'," said the second guard.
+
+"They was gone when we come on," said the third guard.
+
+And the fourth guard swore they were innocent.
+
+"Well, somebody's been asleep--that's all I know!" said Henry Lee; and
+he sent off two mountain men on their best mounts to trail the runaways
+down and bring them back. Then he listened to the mutual recriminations
+of the night herders, and guessed shrewdly at who was at fault. For when
+the night herders get to quarreling among themselves, waking each other
+up ahead of time, and sleeping on one hand till it slips and wakes them
+up, that is a sure sign and precursor of greater troubles to come, and
+it calls for an iron hand. Even as he was listening, a row broke out in
+the round corral, where the cowboys were roping their mounts.
+
+"Turn that hawse loose!" roared Brigham, suddenly mounting up on the
+fence.
+
+"I will not!" retorted the voice of Hardy Atkins from within.
+
+"He belongs to my mount!" protested Brigham with appropriate oaths.
+
+"I don't care whose mount he belongs to!" snarled the ex-straw-boss,
+dragging the horse out by the neck. "You top hands mash yore ear all
+night and let my hawses drift--and then expect me to walk. You bet yore
+boots that don't go--I'll take the best I can find. You can't put _me_
+afoot!"
+
+"I'll put you on yore back," rumbled Brigham, dropping truculently down
+from his perch, "if you try to git gay with me. You may be from Bitter
+Crick, Texas, but you got to whip me before you break into my mount!"
+
+"Well, he's got the Bat Wing brand on 'im," sulked Atkins; "that's all I
+know. And as long as they's a hawse left in the remuda----"
+
+"Here, here!" said Henry Lee, walking in on the squabble. "What's all
+this about? What are you doing with Brig's hawse, Hardy? Why don't you
+ride your own?"
+
+"Well, these hyer nester kids and Mormons went to sleep on guard and let
+my top hawses pull--now I got nothin' but bronks to ride!"
+
+"Well, ride 'em, then!" commanded Henry Lee severely. "And, another
+thing, Mr. Atkins! Next time you've got a grievance, come to me--don't
+try to correct it yourself!"
+
+He regarded his former straw-boss with narrowing eyes, and Atkins roped
+out a bronk; but in the evening he took the first occasion to pick a
+quarrel with Brigham. They were gathered about the fire in the scant
+hour between branding and first guard, and Brigham was telling a story.
+As was his custom, Henry Lee had pitched his tent to one side, for he
+never mixed with his men; and Brig had the stage to himself.
+
+"Well, you fellers talk about gittin' lost," he was saying; "you ought
+to be up in that Malapai country. We had a land-sharp along--claimed to
+know the world by sections--and he----"
+
+"Aw, what do you know about the Malapai country?" broke in Atkins
+rudely. "You cain't even lead a circle on the Black Mesa and git back to
+camp the same day! My hawse give out this mornin' tryin' to----"
+
+"Say," interposed Brigham peaceably, "you know what the boss said this
+mornin'--if you got any grievance, tell it to him. I'm tellin' these
+gentlemen a story."
+
+"A dam' lie would come nearer to it!" sneered Hardy, curling his lips
+with spleen; and at the word Brigham rose swiftly to his feet.
+
+"If you're lookin' fer trouble, Mr. Atkins," he said, taking off his hat
+and laying it carefully to one side, "you don't need to go no further.
+And if you _ain't_," he cried, suddenly advancing with blood in his eye,
+"you take back what you said, or I'll slap yore face off!"
+
+The astounding ease with which he got a rise out of his adversary seemed
+to take all the fight out of Hardy Atkins, and he mumbled some vague
+words of apology; but Brigham was hard to mollify.
+
+"Well, that's all right," he grumbled. "It ain't my fault if you go on a
+drunk and lose yore job, and it ain't my fault if the boss makes me
+straw--but don't you try to crowd me, Hardy Atkins, or I'll make you
+match yore words. The man never lived that can call me a liar and git
+away with it, and I'll thank you to let me alone."
+
+He went back and sat down by the fire, puffing and panting with the
+violence of his emotions; but as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire and
+no one interrupted his mood he fell into a cynical philosophy.
+
+"Mighty funny about these Tee-hannos," he said, glancing around at the
+respectful company. "They say, back in Texas, when a man gits where he
+can count fifty they set him to teachin' school--and when he can count
+up to a hundred he gits on to himse'f and leaves the cussed country.
+Ordinary folks kin only count to twenty--ten fingers and ten toes, like
+an Injun. It's sure a fine country to emigrate from."
+
+He looked about with a superior smile, and Buck Buchanan took up the
+cudgels for Texas.
+
+"They tell me, Brig," he said, "that them Mormons down on the river
+cain't talk no mo'--jest kinder git along by signs and a kind of
+sheep-blat they have."
+
+"Nope," answered Brigham; "they is sech people, but they don't live
+along the Heely. Them fellers you're thinkin' of is in the goat
+business--they don't say _baaa_, like a sheep; they go _maaa_ like a
+goat. I've heard tell of them, too. It seems they don't wear no
+pants--nothin' but shirts. They live on them goat ranches back in
+western Texas."
+
+He paused and looked around for appreciation, but only the nester kids
+smiled.
+
+"I was drivin' a bunch of strays down through that Mormon country one
+time," explained Buck Buchanan; "that's where I got the idee. That's a
+great country, ain't it, Brig? Lots of houses, too. I remember I stopped
+one time at a street crossin' and they was houses on all four corners.
+They was a lot of kids playin' around, and I asked one of 'em whose
+houses they were, and he says: 'My father's.'
+
+"'How comes yore father to have so many houses?' I says. 'Does he rent
+'em?'
+
+"'No, sir,' the kid says, 'he lives in 'em. Don't you know him? He's the
+bishop!'"
+
+A roar of laughter followed this brutal innuendo, but Brigham was not
+set back. His mind had become accustomed to all such jests.
+
+"Aw, you're jealous," he grunted, and let the Gentiles rage until, as
+the talk ran on, he gradually assumed the lead.
+
+"That's one thing you'll never find around a Mormon town," he began,
+still speaking with philosophical calm; "you'll never find no Texican.
+Of course, a Mormon has to work, and that bars most of 'em at the start;
+but, I dunno, seems like the first settlers took a prejudice ag'inst
+'em. I remember my old man tellin' how it come that way--course they
+must be mistaken, but the Mormons think a Texan ain't got no sense.
+
+"It seems the Mormons was the first folks to settle along the Heely, and
+my grandpaw was one of the leaders--he killed a lot of Injuns, believe
+me! But one day when he was gittin' kinder old and feeble-like, he got a
+notion in his head that he wanted a squirrel-skin, and so he called in
+my father and said:
+
+"'Son, you take yore rifle and go out and git me a gray squirrel; and be
+careful not to shoot 'im in the head, because I want the brains to tan
+the skin with.'
+
+"So my father he went up in the pines and hunted around; but the only
+squirrel he could find was stickin' his head over the limb, and rather
+than not git nothin' he shot him anyhow. Well, he brought him back to
+the old man and he said to 'im:
+
+"'I'm mighty sorry, Dad; the squirrels was awful scarce, and rather than
+not git any I had to shoot this one through the head.'
+
+"'Oh, that's all right,' the old man says. 'You got a nice skin anyway,
+and I reckon we can fix it somehow. I tell you what you do. They's a
+bunch of Texans camped down by the lower water--you go down and kill one
+of them, and mebbe we can use _his_ brains.'"
+
+Brigham paused and looked around with squinched-up, twinkling eyes; and
+at last Buck Buchanan broke the dramatic silence.
+
+"Well," he demanded roughly, "what's the joke?"
+
+"Well, sir," ran on Brig, "you wouldn't hardly believe it, but my old
+man had to kill six of them Texicans to git brains enough to tan that
+squirrel-skin! That's why they won't take 'em into the church."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE ROUGH-RIDERS
+
+
+Brigham Clark's squirrel-skin story was not calculated to build up the
+_entente cordial_ with Texas, but Brigham was no trimmer. The only kind
+of fighting he knew was to stand up and strike from the shoulder, and a
+few cracks about Mormon marital customs had not tended to lighten the
+blow. Numerically he was outnumbered by the Texans, but when it came to
+a contest of wits he did not need any help. He went off to bed now,
+laughing, and to all of Bowles' chidings he turned an unheeding ear.
+
+"Let 'em roar," he said. "It's no skin off my nose. Them fellers has
+been cavin' round and givin' off head long enough--I sure capped 'em in
+on that, all right. Well, let 'em rough-house me if they want to--they's
+two can play at that game. I never seen the Texan yet that looked bad to
+me. And if they git too gay the boss will fire the whole caboodle. I
+ain't lookin' fer trouble, but no bunch of ignorant Texicans can run it
+over _me_! Umph-umm!"
+
+So the feud went on, and when Dixie rode into camp with the mail she
+smelled war in the very air. The men walked past each other with the
+wary glances of fighting dogs, and even her little comedy at the
+delivering of the letters failed to visibly lighten the gloom. A private
+interview with the cook, who carefully kept out of the ruction and gave
+neither side comfort nor succor, revealed the fact that the situation
+was serious; and with the success of the round-up at stake, Dixie May
+was quick to act. When her father returned to his dog tent at
+supper-time he found her war-bag inside, and with a mount of horses cut
+out for her, Dixie Lee took on for a cowboy.
+
+They were up on the cedar ridges of the mountains now, driving down wild
+steers from the upper pastures, and a woman was as good as a man. Dixie
+was better than most, for she had ridden those rough mesas before and
+could drift off a ridge like a blacktail. Her desperate rivalry in the
+chase fired the hearts of the most malingering, and more than one
+moss-headed old outlaw found himself outgeneraled and flogged into the
+herd. And a steer is a steer these days--he is worth as much as a horse.
+
+Every morning as the punchers set out on the long circle Dixie May
+picked out a man to dare, and several prairie-bred Texans failed to
+follow her over the rocks. Mounted on the best horses in the remuda,
+knowing the ways of wild cattle and the lay of the land ahead, she took
+after the first puff of dust she saw and followed it till she smelled
+smoke. If her steer turned back, she ran him down and roped him, and if
+her escort did not show up by that time, she hog-tied her catch and went
+on. It was a wild, free life, and she threw herself into it recklessly,
+glorying in the unholy joy of beating them at their own game. She rode
+with Brigham, and Hardy Atkins; uncouth mountain men, and raw-boned
+nester kids; and finally, when the time was ripe, she picked out Bowles.
+
+Bowles was mounted on his top horse, Wa-ha-lote, and he rode proudly
+along behind Brigham, for in the rough and tumble of cross-country
+running he was holding his own with the best. A bunch of wild cattle
+sprang up suddenly from their hiding place on a far point; for a moment
+they stood staring, their ears silhouetted against the sky, and the keen
+eyes of the straw-boss read their earmarks like a book.
+
+"They's two Bat Wing steers in that bunch," he said. "Head 'em off,
+Bowles, and drive 'em down the cañon!"
+
+Then Bowles leaned forward in his saddle and raced them for the high
+ground. He headed them, and they doubled to beat him back. Once more he
+headed them off, while the outfit went on with its circle, and just as
+they stopped to look him over again he saw a horse coming down on his
+right. It was Dixie, mounted on her favorite roan, and she motioned to
+him to swing around on the left. Then the riding began all over again,
+for the steers were wild as bucks and they knew every trail on the
+bench; but the shod horses were too fast for them over the rocks, and as
+their hoofs began to get hot from the friction they turned and dashed
+for the rim.
+
+From the high ridge where the circle was led, to the bottom cañon where
+the hold-up herd lay, the land fell away in three benches, each a little
+narrower, each a little steeper at the jump-off--and Bowles and Dixie
+Lee went over the first pitch hot-foot on the heels of their quarry.
+They raced back and forth on the second terrace, trying to head the
+cattle down a natural trail; but now a wild, self-destroying panic came
+upon them and they took off over the rough ground.
+
+"I'll dare you to follow me!" cried Dixie, turning her eager roan after
+them; and helter-skelter over the rough rocks, swinging and ducking
+under trees and jumping over boulders and bushes, she went spurring
+after the cattle. Behind her came Bowles, his eyes big with excitement,
+staring at her madcap riding with the fear of death in his heart. Down
+over the rough jump-off they went, the dust and smoke from
+friction-burnt hoofs striking hot in their faces as they rode, and by
+the grace of God somehow they reached the bench below.
+
+"Don't ride over there!" he entreated, as the cattle scampered on toward
+the last pitch; but Dixie laughed at him, loud and shrill.
+
+"Will you take a dare?" she taunted, raising her quirt to strike; and
+before Bowles could say a word, Wa-ha-lote grabbed the bit and went
+after her like a rocket. Whatever his master thought, it was outside of
+Wa-ha-lote's simple code to let any horse give him his dust. Wild with
+terror and excitement, the big steers made straight for the jump-off,
+which was high and steep; over they went, with Dixie after them, and
+then, like a bolt from behind, Wa-ha-lote leaped over the rampart and
+went plowing down the slope. Twice he jumped as he came to dykes of
+rock, and Bowles stayed with him like a hurdler; then, with a lightning
+scramble over the loose stones, he took the trail from the roan and went
+pounding down the hill.
+
+Tree limbs reached down to brush Bowles off, sharp stubs threatened
+momentarily to snag his legs, and boulders to dash his brains out if he
+fell, but the lion-hearted Wa-ha-lote had asserted his mastery and
+Bowles could only hang on. At the bottom of the slide they crashed
+through a dead-limbed cedar, sending the bone-dry sticks flying in every
+direction; and when Bowles swung up into the saddle he was thundering
+across the flat and the steers were at his bits. Vague wisps of smoke,
+white and smelling like a blacksmith-shop, leaped up as the harried
+brutes skated over the rocks, and Bowles knew that his battle was won.
+Once in the soft sand of the creek bed they would never turn back to the
+heights, for their feet were worn to the quick. But it had been a hard
+race--even Wa-ha-lote was slowing down, and Dixie Lee was nowhere in
+sight.
+
+A sudden doubt assailed Bowles, and he tugged sharply at the bit; he
+pulled down to a walk and looked behind; then, as he saw no sign, he
+stopped short and let the cattle go. For a tense minute he listened
+while Wa-ha-lote puffed like a steamboat; then, with a grave look on his
+face, he turned and rode back up the hill.
+
+"O Miss Lee!" he shouted. "Dixie!"
+
+And a thin answer came from the slope above.
+
+"Catch my horse!" it said. "He's down in the gulch!"
+
+Bowles stared about and caught sight of the red roan's hide as he stood
+behind some trees; then, with his rope about its neck, he went spurring
+up the hill.
+
+Dixie Lee was lying very awkwardly among the rocks at the foot of a
+scrubby juniper, and at the first glance Bowles knew she was hurt. Not
+only was her hat gone and her stout skirt ripped and torn, but her face
+was very pale and her lips drawn tight together.
+
+"Horse fell with me," she said, greeting him with a fleeting smile;
+"hurt my knee right bad. First time I've known him to do that--say, help
+me out of these rocks."
+
+Very tenderly Bowles reached down and raised her to her feet; then, with
+one arm about his neck, she tried to hobble away, but at the second hop
+she paused.
+
+"Nope--hurts too bad," she said; "put me down."
+
+But Bowles did nothing of the kind. He took her up in his strong young
+arms and carried her down the hill. He even wished it were farther, but
+she spied a bed of leaves under a cedar and ordered him to put her
+there. Then she looked up at him curiously and for a while lay very
+still.
+
+"What you got there?" she inquired, as he came back holding his hat, and
+Bowles showed her a crownful of water that he had brought from a pool in
+the gulch.
+
+"Ah!" sighed Dixie, and drank out of it without scruple, long and deep.
+"Say, that's good," she said; "now pour some on my hands--they're all
+scratched up." He did that too, and loaned her his neck handkerchief to
+sop up the last of the wet.
+
+"Well, it's a wonder you wouldn't ask a few questions," she observed at
+length, bathing her grimy face with the handkerchief. "'How did it
+happen?' or 'How're you feeling?' or something like that!"
+
+She smiled naturally at him now, fluffing out her dark hair that hung
+like an Indian's in heavy braids; and Bowles' face lighted up and then
+flushed a rosy red.
+
+"I see you are feeling better," he said, sitting down off to one side,
+and decorously regarding his wet hat, "so how did it happen?"
+
+"Well," began Dixie, ruefully inspecting her torn hands, "all I can
+remember is feeling my horse going down and jerking my feet out of the
+stirrups--then I fetched up in that juniper. I scrambled out the minute
+I struck--afraid old Rufus would fall on me--and that's where I hurt my
+knee--I bumped it against a rock."
+
+She felt the injured limb over carefully and shook her head.
+
+"I'm afraid I can't travel on that for a while," she said. "So get me
+your coat to put under it and prop it up, and we'll talk about something
+pleasant. It'll be all right, I reckon, after I rest a while, but that
+fall certainly jarred me up.
+
+"Say," she observed, as Bowles came back with his coat, "that was pretty
+good, wasn't it, what I was telling you the other day--about nursing you
+back to health and strength. Looks like you're the nurse, the way it
+turns out. But you're going to make a good one," she went on, as he
+tucked the coat under her knee; "I can see that. Now, most people, when
+you get a hurt, or a fall, or something, they come rushing up to where
+you're making faces and ask a lot of foolish questions--'Are you hurt?'
+and 'Did you fall?' and all that, until you want to kill 'em. But you
+haven't hardly said a word."
+
+"No," said Bowles, blushing and looking away. "I'm awfully sorry you
+fell--hope I didn't make you. Is there anything more I can do?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "We all take a fall once in a
+while. I feel kind of weak and trifling right now--but don't go! No, I
+want you here for company!"
+
+Bowles had stood up on a pretext of looking after the horses, but Dixie
+was firm.
+
+"No, you stay," she said, as he explained that she might wish to be
+alone. "You're out West now, Bowles, and you remember what Hardy Atkins
+told you--'if a lady asks you to take a letter, _take it_!' Of course,
+that was none of Hardy's business, but that's the rule out here, and I
+want you to come back and sit down. No, not away over there--I want you
+right up close!"
+
+Bowles came back as readily as a dog, but he did not sit very close. For
+some reason unknown to himself he assumed that she would be embarrassed,
+not only by their isolated position but by the intimacies which had
+arisen between them. Moved by a strong and humane purpose, he had
+gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the hill; but hardly
+had he felt her arm about his neck, her breath against his cheek, and
+her heart against his breast, when the dimensions of his world had
+suddenly narrowed down, and there was only Dixie Lee and him. And now he
+was still dazed and breathless, afraid of himself, and not trusting in
+his strength--and yet he would do anything to please her.
+
+"Come on over here," she coaxed, patting the leaves by her side, and
+Bowles came as near as he dared. "Now tell me some stories," she said,
+settling back and closing her eyes. "Ah, this will be fine--tell me
+something interesting, so I can forget that knee. It sure aches--when I
+think about it--but I believe there's something in mind-cure. Go ahead
+and talk. Where'd you learn to ride so well?"
+
+"Oh, that?" beamed Bowles. "Do you think I can ride? Well, I'm not so
+bad, over the rocks, you know. I used to ride to the hounds. We chased
+foxes through the woods, leaping stone walls and five-bar gates and all
+that, and, really, I used to enjoy it. Nothing like cow-punching, of
+course, but great sport all the same. I remember once we were out at
+Clarendon----"
+
+He fell into the details of a fox hunt--the first time he had spoken of
+his past life--and Dixie was careful not to interrupt him. Then he told
+of his life in the military school, where they taught boys the
+cavalryman's craft, and Dixie lay quiet and listened. If her knee hurt
+she did not know it, for she was piecing out his career. School,
+college, country club, one after the other he alluded to them, but even
+in his boyish enthusiasm he was careful to mention no names; and as he
+wandered on with his stories Dixie Lee wondered who he was. Certainly no
+inconsiderable man in his own country, and yet here he was, an ordinary
+hired hand, punching cows for forty-five a month. But why? And if he had
+followed her to the end of the world to win her heart, why did he not
+talk of love to her, now that they were there together? And when he had
+taken her in his arms, when he had carried her under the tree and pulled
+off her boot and tucked his coat under her knee, why had there been no
+caress, no look, no unnecessary attentions to show that he really cared?
+Dixie May opened her eyes and gazed out at him through half-closed
+lashes, and somehow she liked him better--he seemed to be different from
+the rest.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," she said at last, "you're an awfully interesting man, but
+there are some things I can't understand. There's something mysterious
+about you. I know you must be all right, because I met you at Mrs.
+Melvine's, but at the same time you're hiding out like an ordinary
+horse-stealing Texican. What are you up to, anyway?"
+
+"Why, I thought you knew all about that," explained Bowles, the old
+baffling smile coming back into his eyes. "Don't you remember, I told
+you about it on the train?"
+
+"Yes, I remember, all right," answered Dixie. "But you didn't tell me
+very much--and then you told me different at Chula Vista. I thought I
+had a line on you once, but you're too deep for me. What's this I hear
+about a girl?"
+
+"A girl?" repeated Bowles, with questioning gravity. "Why, what do you
+mean? What did you hear?"
+
+"A girl back in New York," continued Dixie, glancing at him shrewdly as
+she hazarded a guess--and as she gazed he flushed and looked away.
+
+"Whatever you have heard," he said at last, "I have nothing to be
+ashamed of--would you like me to get you some water?"
+
+"Aw, Mr. Bowles," cried Dixie reproachfully, "are you trying to
+side-step me on this?"
+
+"No, indeed!" replied Bowles, settling back with masterful calm. "What
+is it you have heard--and what would you like to know?"
+
+He paused and regarded her expectantly, and Dixie saw that she was
+called. A shadow passed over her face; a shadow of annoyance, and of
+suspicion, perhaps, as well; but she felt the rebuke of his frankness
+and pursued her inquiry no further.
+
+"Well, perhaps you are right," she said, as if answering an unspoken
+reproof. "It was nothing to your discredit, Mr. Bowles; and I am sure it
+is none of my business. I guess I'm kind of spoiled out here--I get to
+joshing with these cowboys until I don't know anything else. I believe I
+would like that drink."
+
+Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hat
+full of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished and
+looked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You've
+been so good to me here--what have I gone and done now?"
+
+"Oh, it's not you at all," he assured her, and then his voice broke and
+he faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"
+
+"Why, no, Mr. Bowles," soothed Dixie, laying her hand on his arm. "Not a
+word--I don't know anything about you--I was only making it up."
+
+"Oh!" said Bowles, and drew his arm away. He looked out at the horses
+for a moment, poured the water out of his hat, and turned back, his old
+smiling self.
+
+"How is your knee now?" he inquired kindly. "Do you think you can ride?
+I suppose we ought to be going pretty soon."
+
+Dixie glanced over at him and her heart sank--she had observed these
+sudden changes in Bowles before, and even his boyish smile could not
+lighten the veiled rebuke. When Bowles had thoughts that were
+anti-social he was always unusually kind, and his way of expressing
+disapproval was to tactfully change the subject. And now he was talking
+of going! Dixie scowled and felt of her knee, and rose stiffly to her
+feet.
+
+"Well, if you're in such a hurry," she sulked; but Bowles was at her
+side in an instant.
+
+"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" he cried, catching her as she poised for a limp.
+"Please don't do that! Let me carry you, when the time comes, but we
+will rest as long as you please."
+
+He passed a compelling arm about her and lowered her gently to her
+place; then he sat down beside her, and breathed hard as he set her
+free.
+
+"Really," he murmured, "we don't seem to understand each other very
+well, Miss Lee!"
+
+"That's because neither one of us is telling the truth!" observed Dixie
+with a certain bitterness.
+
+They sat for a moment in silence, and then she turned about and looked
+him squarely in the eye.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," she said, in measured tones, "who are you, anyway?"
+
+"Who--me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you know
+me! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's."
+
+"There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name,
+and I'm----"
+
+"Yes?" questioned Bowles.
+
+"Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I've
+got _something_ on my mind."
+
+"Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I--I hope I haven't given
+offense in any way. You were hurt, you know--and I was a little
+excited--and----"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfect
+gentleman--I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do with
+women, have you, Mr. Bowles?"
+
+Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at her
+mystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, and
+decided to tell the truth.
+
+"Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't----"
+
+"Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was just
+thinking--well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then."
+
+She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and his
+brain whirled as he looked away.
+
+"No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, you
+know."
+
+"Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make an
+exception of you."
+
+He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went to
+do her will.
+
+"Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you while
+you mount?"
+
+"Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!"
+
+And then he gathered her into his arms.
+
+"I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him--and Dixie forgot
+and smiled.
+
+"Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that was
+to pay you for being nurse."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A COMMON BRAWL
+
+
+There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times and
+makes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen a
+kiss--for the first time in his life--and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. He
+had stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then they
+had ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss had
+meant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. So
+they rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word.
+
+Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, with
+a sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But the
+jealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rode
+along on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. Hardy
+Atkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horse
+in against his stirrup he hissed:
+
+"You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!" and went muttering on his
+way.
+
+This roused Bowles from his reverie, and he began to think. If Hardy
+Atkins had noticed a change, there were others who would do the same.
+How Atkins had guessed, or what the clue had been, he could not tell;
+but, having been carefully brought up, Bowles knew exactly what he ought
+to do. Before the first rumor had run its course it was his duty as a
+gentleman to go to Henry Lee and make a report of the facts; then, if
+any exaggerated statements came to his ears later, Mr. Lee would know
+that his conduct had been honorable and that green-eyed envy was raising
+its hateful head. So, without more ado, he rode up to the point of the
+herd and saluted the austere boss.
+
+"Mr. Lee," he said, as that gentleman turned upon him sharply, "I am
+sorry, but Miss Lee had a very bad fall this morning and she has gone
+ahead to camp."
+
+"Yes, I saw her," returned the boss. "What about it?"
+
+"Well--I was afraid she might not mention it to you, or might minimize
+her hurts, but as a matter of fact she fell on a steep hill, and if it
+hadn't been for a juniper tree she might have been seriously injured. As
+it is, her knee gave her quite a lot of trouble and I had to help her to
+mount."
+
+"Oh!" commented Henry Lee, and glanced at him again. "Well, what is it?"
+he inquired, as Bowles still rode at his side.
+
+"Excuse me," stammered Bowles, holding resolutely to his task, "I
+thought perhaps you might want to ride ahead and help her off her
+horse."
+
+For a moment the boss looked him over, then he grunted and bowed quite
+formally.
+
+"Yes, thank you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Will you call Hardy to take my
+place?"
+
+He waited until Hardy Atkins had started, and then put spurs to his
+horse, and when the cowboys reached camp he was busy about the tent. The
+next day Dixie did not ride out on the round-up, and when they came back
+she was gone. "Back to the home ranch," the cook reported, and he added
+that she was not very lame; but the cow-punchers glared at Bowles as if
+he had crippled her for life. And not only that, but as if he had done
+it on purpose.
+
+"These blankety-blank tenderfeet!" commented Hardy Atkins by the fire.
+"They can make an outfit more trouble than a bunch of Apache Indians. I
+cain't stand 'em--it's onlucky to have 'em around."
+
+"I'd rather be short-handed, any time," observed Buck Buchanan sagely.
+
+"Now, there's Dix," continued Hardy, with a vindictive glance at Bowles;
+"worth any two men in the outfit--ride anywhere--goes out with this
+tenderfoot and comes within an ace of gittin' killed. She raced with me,
+rode with Jack and Slim, and left the Straw a mile--the Hinglishman
+comes in behind her, crowds her outer the trail, and if it hadn't been
+fer that juniper she'd a-landed in them rocks."
+
+Bowles looked up scornfully from his place and said nothing, but Brigham
+appeared for the defense.
+
+"Aw, what do _you_ know about it?" he growled. "You wasn't there. Who
+told you he crowded her out of the trail?"
+
+"Well, he says so himse'f!" protested Atkins, pointing an accusing
+finger at Bowles. "Didn't he come into camp and tell all about it? I
+believe that he was tryin' to do it so he could git a chance to----"
+
+"Mr. Atkins," said Bowles, rising to his feet and speaking tremulously,
+"I shall have to ask----"
+
+But that was as far as he got. With a tiger-like spring the ex-twister
+was upon him, and before he could raise his hands he struck him full in
+the face.
+
+"You will talk about my gal, will ye?" he shouted, as Bowles went down
+at the blow. "Stand up hyer, you white-livered Hinglishman; I'll learn
+you to butt in on my game!"
+
+"Here! What're you tryin' to do?" demanded Brigham, leaping up hastily
+and confronting his old-time enemy. "You touch that boy again, and I'll
+slap yore dirty face off!"
+
+"Well, he's been gittin' too important around hyer!" cried Atkins
+noisily. "And he's been talkin' about my gal--I won't take that from no
+man!"
+
+"Huh!" sneered Brigham, drawing closer and clenching his hands. "You're
+mighty quick to hit a man when he ain't lookin'--why don't you take a
+man of yore size now and hit me?"
+
+"I ain't got no quarrel with you!" raved Hardy Atkins. "That's the
+feller I'm after--he's been talkin' about my gal!"
+
+"He has not!" replied Brigham deliberately. "He never talked about no
+gal, and I'll whip the man that says so--are you bad hurt, pardner?"
+
+He knelt by the side of the prostrate Bowles, who opened his eyes and
+stared. Then he looked about him and raised one hand to his cheek, which
+was bruised and beginning to swell.
+
+"I'll learn you to cut me out!" taunted Hardy Atkins, shaking his fist
+and doing a war-dance. "I'll make you hard to ketch if you try to butt
+in on me!"
+
+"Aw, shut up!" snarled Brigham, lifting his partner up. "You're brave
+when a man ain't lookin', ain't ye? Here, ketch hold of me, pardner, and
+I'll take you to yore bed."
+
+Bowles dropped down on his blankets, still nursing his aching head; but
+in the morning he rose up with a purposeful look in his eye. He was a
+long way from New York and the higher life now, and that one treacherous
+blow had roused his fighting blood. For the courage which prompts a man
+to strike in the dark, he had little if any respect, and he went
+straight over to Hardy Atkins the moment he saw him alone.
+
+"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you hit me when I wasn't looking last night.
+Next time you won't find me so easy--but be so good as to leave Miss
+Lee's name out of this."
+
+"Oho!" taunted the cow-puncher, straightening up and regarding him with
+a grin. "So you want some more, hey? That crack on the jaw didn't
+satisfy you. What's the matter with yore face this mawnin'?"
+
+"Never you mind about my face," returned Bowles warmly. "If you are so
+low as to be proud of a trick like that, you are a coward, and no
+gentleman, and--put up your hands!"
+
+He squared off as he spoke, falling back upon his right foot and
+presenting a long, menacing left; but Hardy Atkins only laughed and
+loosened his pistol.
+
+"Aw, go on away," he said. "D'ye think I want to _box_ with you? No, if
+you git into a fight with me you're liable to stop 'most anythin'--I'll
+hit you over the coco with _this_!"
+
+He laid his hand on the heavy Colt's which he always wore in his shaps,
+and gazed upon Bowles insolently.
+
+"You can't run no blazer over me, Mr. Willie-boy," he went on, as Bowles
+put down his hands. "You're out West now, where everythin' goes. If
+you'd happen to whip me in a fist-fight I'd git my gun and shoot you, so
+keep yore mouth shut unless you want to go the limit. And while we're
+talkin'," he drawled, "I think you might as well drift--it's goin' to be
+mighty onhealthy around hyer if I ketch you with Dixie again."
+
+"I asked you to leave her name out of this," suggested Bowles, trying
+bravely to keep his voice from getting thin. "If you've got a quarrel
+with me, well and good, but certainly no gentleman----"
+
+"Aw, go on away from me," sneered Hardy Atkins, waving him wearily
+aside. "You seem to think you're the only gentleman in the outfit! Go
+chase yoreself--you make me tired!"
+
+The sight of grinning faces about the corral recalled Bowles to the
+presence of an audience and, choking with anger and chagrin, he went off
+to saddle his horse. Ever since his arrival Hardy Atkins had ignored
+him, glancing at him furtively or gazing past him with supercilious
+scorn. Now for the first time they had met as man to man, and in that
+brief minute the ex-twister had shown his true colors. He was a man of
+treachery and violence, and proud of it. He did not pretend to fair play
+nor subscribe to the rules of the game. He did not even claim to be a
+gentleman! There was the crux, and Bowles labored in his mind to find
+the key. How could he compete--in either love or war--with a man who was
+not a gentleman?
+
+It was Brigham who gave the answer, and to him it was perfectly simple.
+
+"Well," he said, as they rode back together from the circle, "he's
+warned you out of camp--what ye goin' to do about it?"
+
+"Why, what can I do?" faltered Bowles, whose soul was darkened with
+troubles.
+
+"Fight or git out," replied Brigham briefly.
+
+"But he won't fight fair!" cried Bowles. "He hits me when I'm not
+looking; then when I offer to fight him with my hands he threatens me
+with a pistol. What can a man do?"
+
+"Threaten 'im with yourn!" returned Brigham. "He won't shoot--he's one
+of the worst four-flushers in Arizona! He's jest runnin' it over you
+because he thinks you're a tenderfoot."
+
+"How do you know he won't shoot?" inquired Bowles, to whom the whole
+proposition was in the nature of an enigma. "What does he carry that
+pistol for, then?"
+
+"Jest to look ba-ad," sneered Brigham, "and throw a big scare into
+strangers. _I_ ain't got no six-shooter, and he don't run it over me,
+does he? He's afraid to shoot, that's what's the matter--he knows very
+well the Rangers would be on his neck before he could cross the line.
+Don't you let these Texicans buffalo you, boy--the only time they're
+dangerous is when they're on a drunk."
+
+"Then you mean," began Bowles hopefully, "if I'd struck him this morning
+he wouldn't have used his gun?"
+
+"Well," admitted Brig, "he might've drawed it--and if you'd whipped him
+he might've taken a shot at you. But you got a gun too, ain't you?"
+
+"Ye-es," acknowledged Bowles; "but I don't want to kill a man. I
+wouldn't like to shoot him with it."
+
+"Well, then, for Gawd's sake, _take it off_!" roared Brigham. "If he'd
+shot you this mornin' he could a got off fer self-defense! Turn it over
+to the boss and tell him you don't want no trouble--then if Hardy shoots
+you he'll swing fer it!"
+
+"But how about me?" queried Bowles.
+
+"You're twice as likely to git shot anyway," persisted Brig, "with a gun
+on you. If you got to pack a gun, leave it in yore bed, where you can
+git it if you want it; but if the other feller sees you're heeled, and
+he's got a gun, it makes him nervous, and if you make a sudden move he
+plugs you. But if you ain't armed he don't dare to--they're awful strict
+out here, and these Rangers are the limit. Hardy won't shoot--you ain't
+afraid of 'im, are you?"
+
+"No-o," said Bowles; "not if he'd fight fair."
+
+"D'ye think you could whip 'im?" demanded Brigham eagerly.
+
+"I can try," responded Bowles grimly.
+
+"That's the talk!" cheered Brigham, leaning over to whack him on the
+back. "Stand up to 'im! He's nothin' but a big bluff!"
+
+"I don't know about that," grumbled Bowles, with the affair of the
+morning still fresh in mind; "I'm afraid he'll hit me with his gun."
+
+"Well, here, we'll fix that," said Brig, hastily stripping the heavy
+quirt from his wrist. "You turn yore pistol over to the boss and take
+this loaded quirt--then if Hardy offers to club you with his gun you
+knock his eye out with _this_!"
+
+He made a vicious pass into the air with the bludgeon-like handle,
+holding the quirt by the lash, and passed it over to Bowles.
+
+"Now you're heeled!" he said approvingly. "That's worse'n a gun, any
+time, and you kin hit 'im as hard as you please. Jest hang that on yore
+wrist, where it'll be handy, and turn that cussed six-shooter in."
+
+The matter was still a little mixed in Bowles' mind, and he felt that he
+was treading upon new and dangerous ground, but his evil passions were
+still afoot and he longed gloomily for his revenge. So when they got
+into camp that evening he went over to Henry Lee's tent, with Brigham to
+act as his witness.
+
+"Mr. Lee," he said, speaking according to instructions, "I've had a
+little difficulty with one of the boys, and I'd like to turn in my gun.
+I don't want to have any trouble."
+
+"All right, Mr. Bowles," answered the boss very quietly. "Just throw it
+on my bed. What's the matter, Brig?"
+
+"Oh, nothin' much," replied Brigham. "You saw it yorese'f--last night."
+
+"Um," assented Henry Lee, glancing for a moment at Bowles' skinned
+cheek. "Well, we don't want to have any racket now, boys--not while
+we've got these wild cattle on our hands--and I'm much obliged. Hope you
+don't have any more trouble, Mr. Bowles."
+
+He bowed them out of the tent without any more words, and they proceeded
+back to the camp. A significant smile went the rounds as Bowles came
+back from the tent, but in the morning he went to the corral as usual.
+
+"I thought you'd got yore time," ventured Buck Buchanan, as Bowles began
+to saddle up; and as the word passed around that he had not, Hardy
+Atkins rode over to inquire.
+
+"What's this I hear?" he said. "I thought you was goin' to quit."
+
+"Then you were mistaken, Mr. Atkins," answered Bowles politely. "I am
+not."
+
+"Then what did you see the boss fer? Makin' some kick about me?"
+
+"Your name was not mentioned, Mr. Atkins," replied Bowles, still
+politely. "I simply turned over my gun to Mr. Lee and told him I'd had
+some trouble."
+
+"Well, it's nothin' to what you _will_ have!" scowled the ex-twister
+hatefully. "I can tell you that! And I give you till night to pull. If
+you don't----"
+
+He paused with meaning emphasis and turned his horse to go, but Henry
+Lee had been watching him from a distance and now he came spurring in.
+
+"Hardy," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave Bowles strictly alone.
+He's turned his gun in to me and is tending to his own business, so
+don't let me speak to you again. D'ye understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir!" mumbled the cow-puncher, fumbling sullenly with his
+saddle-strings; but his mind was not turned from his purpose, as Bowles
+found out that same night.
+
+They were swinging around toward the south and west, raking the last
+barren ridges before they started the day-herd for home; and in the
+evening they camped in the open and threw their beds down anywhere.
+After a hasty supper by the fire, Bowles spread out his blankets, coiled
+up his bed-rope, and rode forth to stand the first guard. For Bowles was
+a top hand now, whatever his enemy might say, and he had his choice of
+guards. It was very dark when he came in at ten-thirty, and he was too
+sleepy to notice the change, but after he had slipped under his
+tarpaulin he felt something through the bed. It was his bed-rope,
+stretched carelessly across the middle, from side to side, and he
+grumbled for a moment to himself as he squirmed down where it would not
+hurt him. Then he went to sleep.
+
+After a man has ridden hard all day and stood his guard at night, a
+little thing like a rope under his bed is not likely to disturb his
+dreams--the way the pea did the soft-sleeping True Princess--but with
+this particular rope it was different. Hardy Atkins had stretched it
+there with malice aforethought; and when, later in the night, he saddled
+his snorting night horse and prepared to ride out to the herd, he tied
+the two ends into a loop and silently stepped away with the slack. Then
+he took a turn around the horn, put spurs to his horse, and went
+plunging out into the night.
+
+A sudden yank almost snapped Bowles in two in the middle; he woke up
+clutching, to find himself side-swiping the earth; then an agonizing
+series of bumps and jolts followed, and he fetched up against a juniper
+with a jar that rattled his teeth. There was a strain, a snap, and as
+the rope parted he heard a titter, and a horse went galloping on. It was
+a practical joke--Bowles realized that the moment he woke up--but the
+terror of that first grim nightmare wrenched his soul to the very
+depths. He came to, cursing and fighting, still bound by the loop of the
+lariat and half-buried in the wreck of the juniper. Then he jerked
+himself loose and sprang up, staring about in the darkness for some
+enemy that he could kill. The titter of the galloping horseman gave the
+answer, and he knew it was Hardy Atkins. Hardy had given him till
+nightfall to quit camp or look out for trouble. This was the trouble.
+
+Bowles spread out his bed as best he could and slept where he lay till
+dawn. Then he went to Henry Lee and said he would like his gun. His
+hands were bloody and torn from contact with the brush, and there was a
+fresh welt above one eye that gave him a sinister leer. There was no
+doubt about it--Bowles was mad--and after a cursory glance the boss saw
+he was out for blood.
+
+"Just a moment, Mr. Bowles," he said, advancing to the fire. "Boys," he
+continued, addressing the smirking hands who stood there, "I make it a
+rule on my round-ups that nobody carries a gun. That includes you, too,
+Mr. Bowles," he added meaningly. "Mosby, get me a gunny-sack."
+
+With the gunny-sack under one arm the wagon-boss went the rounds, and
+when he had finished his trip the sack was full of guns.
+
+"I'll just keep these till we get back to the ranch," he observed.
+"And," he added, "the next man that picks on Bowles will have to walk to
+town. Hardy, were you in on this?"
+
+"No, sir!" replied Atkins stoutly. "I don't know a thing about it!"
+
+"Well, be mighty careful what you do," charged Henry Lee severely.
+"Brig, throw that herd on the trail--we might as well hit for the
+ranch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE DEATH OF HAPPY JACK
+
+
+When Bowles rode back to the Bat Wing Ranch he was a hard-looking
+citizen. His aunt, the hypothetical Mrs. Earl-Bowles, would scarcely
+have recognized him; Mrs. Lee started visibly at sight of his battered
+face; and Dixie smiled knowingly as she glanced at his half-closed eye.
+
+"Aha, Mr. Man," she said, "it looks like you'd been into a juniper,
+too!"
+
+"Well, something like that," acknowledged Bowles, gazing lover-like into
+her eyes; and from that he led the conversation into other channels,
+less intimately associated with common brawls. For though Bowles had
+given way to his evil passions and had even gone so far as to call for
+his gun in order to beard his rival, he did not wish it known to his
+lady. As he contemplated her grace in a plain white dress, and the
+witchery of her faintest smile, it seemed indeed a profanation of the
+sacred Temple of Love to so much as allude to a fight. Undoubtedly in
+the wooings of the stone age the males had competed with clubs, but
+certainly for no woman like this. Love, as Bowles had learned it from
+the poets, was above such sordid scenes; and as he had learned it from
+her--when she had chastened his soul with a kiss--ah, now he could sing
+with old Ben Jonson and the deathless Greeks:
+
+    "Drink to me only with thine eyes,
+      And I will pledge with mine;
+    Or leave a kiss within the cup,
+      And I'll not ask for wine."
+
+Here was the shrine at which he worshiped, and he wished no carnal
+thought to enter in. So he spoke to her softly and went his way, lest
+some one should read his heart and break the spell with jeering.
+
+The dust of a day's hard driving was on his face; there was a red weal
+over one eye and a bruise on his bearded cheek, but he was a lover
+still. Dixie knew it by his eyes, that glowed and kindled; by his voice,
+whose every word veiled a hidden caress; and she greeted the others
+coldly from thinking of this one who had come. Then she dissembled and
+went down among them, but her ways were changed and she only smiled at
+their jests.
+
+"Hey, Dix," challenged Hardy Atkins at last, thrusting a grimy hand down
+into his shap pocket, "look what I got fer ye!"
+
+He drew out a money-order ring that he had won in a mountain poker game,
+and flashed the stone in the sun.
+
+"It's a genuwine, eighteen-carat diamond," he announced. "Come over hyer
+and let's see which finger it fits. If it fits yore third finger, you
+know----"
+
+"Well, I like your nerve," observed Dixie Lee, smiling tolerantly with
+Gloomy Gus. "'Come over hyer!' eh? It's a wonder you wouldn't come over
+here--but I don't want your old ring, so don't come."
+
+"W'y, what's the matter?" inquired Hardy Atkins, who loved to do his
+courting in public. "You ain't goin' back on me, are you, Dix?"
+
+"Well, if I went very far back on _your_ trail," answered Dixie, "I
+reckon I'd find where you _got_ that ring. What's the matter? Wouldn't
+she have it? Or did that other girl give it back?"
+
+She turned away with a curl on her lips, and when he saw that she meant
+it, Hardy Atkins was filled with chagrin. From a man now, that would be
+a good joke; but from Dixie--well, somebody must have blabbed! He turned
+a darkly inquiring eye upon Bowles, and looked no farther; but Henry Lee
+had spoken, and all that rough work was barred. Still there were ways
+and ways, and after thinking over all the dubious tricks of the cow camp
+he called in his faithful friends and they went into executive session.
+
+"Now, hyer," expounded the ex-twister, as they got together over the
+butchering of a beef, "the way to bump that Hinglishman off is to make a
+monkey of 'im--skeer 'im up and laugh 'im out o' camp. He's so stuck on
+himse'f he cain't stand to be showed up--what's the matter with a fake
+killin'? Here's lots of blood."
+
+He cupped up a handful of blood from the viscera of the newly killed
+beef, and his side partners chuckled at the thought.
+
+"Let me do the shootin', and I'll throw in with ye," rumbled Buck
+Buchanan.
+
+"I'll hold the door on 'im," volunteered Poker Bill.
+
+"Well, who's goin' to play dead?" grinned Happy Jack. "Me? All right.
+Git some flour to put on my face, and watch me make the fall--I done
+that once back on the Pecos."
+
+So they laid their plans, very mysteriously, and when the big poker game
+began that night there was no one else in on the plot. Buck had the
+pistol he had killed the beef with tucked away in the slack of his belt;
+Jack had changed to a light shirt, the better to show the blood; and
+Hardy Atkins was a make-up man, with bottled blood and a pinch of flour
+in his pockets to use when the lights went out.
+
+The game was straight draw poker, and the prize a private horse. Ten
+dollars apiece was the price of a chance, and it was freeze-out at
+four-bits a chip. That served to draw the whole crowd, and as the
+contest narrowed down to Buck Buchanan and Happy Jack, the table was
+lined three deep.
+
+"How many?" asked Buck, picking up the deck.
+
+"Gimme one!" said Jack, and when he got it he looked grave and turned
+down his hand, the way all good poker players do when they have tried to
+fill a flush and failed.
+
+"I bet ye ten!" challenged Jack.
+
+"Go you--and ten more!" came back Buck.
+
+"Raise ye twenty!"
+
+"What ye got?" demanded Buck, shoving his beans to the center, and then,
+with a sudden roar, he leaped up and seized the stakes. "Keep yore hands
+off that discyard!" he bellowed, hammering furiously on the table. "You
+lie, you----"
+
+_Whack!_ came Happy Jack's hand across his face, and Buchanan grabbed
+for his gun. Then, as the crowd scattered wildly, he thrust out his
+pistol and shot a great flash of powder between Happy Jack's arm and his
+ribs.
+
+"Uh!" grunted Jack, and went over backward, chair and all.
+
+Then Hardy Atkins blew out the lamp, and the riot went on in the dark.
+Bowles was only one of ten frantic punchers who struggled to get out the
+door; Brigham Clark was one of as many more who burrowed beneath the
+beds; and when Hardy Atkins lit the lamp and threw the dim light on
+Happy Jack's wan face he was just in time to save his audience. True,
+the older punchers had been in fake fights before; but they had been in
+real ones, too--where the bullets flew wide of the mark--and this had
+seemed mighty real. In fact, if one were to criticize such a finished
+production, it was a little too real for the purpose, for the conduct of
+Bowles was in no wise different from the rest. There had been a little
+too much secrecy and not quite enough team-work about the play, but
+Poker-face Bill was still at his post and the victim was caught in the
+crowd.
+
+"Oh, my Gawd!" moaned Hardy Atkins, kneeling down and tearing aside
+Jack's coat. "Are you hurt bad, Jack?"
+
+The red splotch on his shirt gave the answer, and the room was silent as
+death. Then Poker Bill began to whisper and push; delighted grins were
+passed and stilled; and, moving in a mass, with Bowles up near the
+front, the crowd closed in on the corpse.
+
+"He's dead!" rumbled Buck Buchanan, making a fierce gesture with his
+pistol. "I don't make no mistakes. You boys saw him cheat," he went on,
+approaching nearer to the crowd. "And he slapped me first! You saw that,
+didn't you, Bowles?"
+
+"Oh, hush up!" cried Hardy Atkins, tragically shaking his fallen friend;
+and then as he worked up to the big scene where Happy Jack was to come
+to life and run amuck after Bowles, the door was kicked open and gloomy
+Gus strode in.
+
+"What's the matter with you fellers?" he demanded, his voice trembling
+with indignation at the thought of his broken sleep, and then, at sight
+of Jack, he stopped.
+
+"Jack's dead," said Hardy Atkins, trying hard to give Gus the wink; but
+the cook was staring at the corpse. Perhaps, being roused from a sound
+sleep, his senses were not quite as acute as usual; perhaps the
+play-acting was too good; be that as it may, his rage was changed to
+pity, and, he took the center of the stage.
+
+"Ah, poor Jack!" he quavered, going closer and gazing down upon him.
+"Shot through the heart. He's dead, boys; they's no use workin' on
+'im--I've seen many a man like that before."
+
+"Well, let's try, anyway!" urged Atkins, in a desperate endeavor to get
+rid of him. "Go git some water, Gus! Haven't you got any whisky?"
+
+"Oh, he's dead," mourned the cook; "they's no use troublin' him--it's
+all over with poor old Jack. You'll never hear _him_ laugh no more."
+
+A faint twitch came over the set features of the corpse at this, and
+Hardy Atkins leaped desperately in to shield his face.
+
+"He was a good-hearted boy," continued Gloomy Gus, still intent upon his
+eulogy--and then Happy Jack broke down. First he began to twitch, then a
+snort escaped him, and he shook with inextinguishable laughter. A look
+went around the room, Brigham Clark punched Bowles with his elbow and
+pulled him back, and then Gus glanced down at the corpse. His peroration
+ceased right there, and disgust, chagrin, and anger chased themselves
+across his face like winds across a lake; then, with a wicked oath, he
+snatched the gun away from Buck and struggled to get it cocked.
+
+"You young limb!" he raved, menacing Happy Jack with the pistol and
+fighting to break clear of Buck. "You'll play a trick on me, will ye--an
+old man and punched cows before you was born! Let go of that gun, Mr.
+Buchanan! I'll show the blankety-blank----" And so he raged, while the
+conspirators labored to soothe him, and Brig dragged Bowles outside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+A CALL
+
+
+There is a regrettable but very well defined tendency in human nature
+which prompts the author of a miss-fire revenge to take it out on the
+dog. Certainly there was no more innocent party to the inveigling of
+Gloomy Gus than Bowles, and yet for some reason Hardy Atkins and his
+comrades in crime chose to gaze upon him with a frown. After laboring
+far into the night they had finally persuaded the cook that it was all a
+mistake; that no insult was intended to his years; and that it would be
+contrary to those high principles of Southern chivalry of which he had
+always been such an illustrious exponent to report the fake fight to the
+boss. Then they had busied themselves in the early morning with chopping
+wood and packing water, and similar ingratiating tasks, with the result
+that, when Henry Lee came down after breakfast, there was no complaint
+from anybody. But when he had let it pass, and started off for Chula
+Vista, it was cloudy in the south for Bowles.
+
+But your true lover, with the wine of ecstasy in his veins, and haunting
+feminine glimpses to catch his eye, is not likely to be scanning the
+horizon for a cloud the size of a man's hand. Bowles' troubles began
+that evening when, after an arduous day in the saddle, he returned to
+his own social sphere. For two months and more Samuel Bowles had been a
+cow-hand. He had slept on the ground, he had eaten in the dirt, and when
+luck had gone against him he had learned to swear. But now, as he was
+riding past the gate, Mrs. Lee, in a charming house-gown, had waylaid
+him with a smile; he paused for a friendly word, and his breeding had
+prompted him to linger while she chatted; then she had invited him to
+dinner--not supper--and he had forgotten his lowly part. Forgotten also
+was the warning of Hardy Atkins, now so sullen in his defeat, and
+everything else except the lure of dainty living and the memory of a
+smile. So, after a hasty shave and a change to cleaner clothes, he
+stepped out boldly from the ranks and walked up to the big white house.
+
+The chill and gusty days of early spring had passed and the soft warmth
+of May had brought out all the flowers. Along the gallery the
+honeysuckle and the Cherokee climbers were fragrant with the first
+blossoms of summer, and Bowles was glad to tarry beneath them when Mrs.
+Lee met him hospitably at the stoop. In the far west the Tortugas were
+passing through the daily miracle of sunset, and the hush of evening had
+settled upon all the land.
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Lee," sighed Bowles, as he contemplated with a poet's eye the
+beauties of nature, "now I understand how you can live here for thirty
+years and never go back to New York. Such illumination--such color! And
+from the hill here, it is so much more glorious! Really, in spite of the
+loneliness, I almost envy you those thirty years!"
+
+"Yes," admitted Mrs. Lee, leading him to a rawhide chair beneath the
+honeysuckle, "it _is_ beautiful. I like it--in a way--but still, I can
+never forget New York. It offers so much, you know, of music and art and
+society; and yet--well, Henry needed me, and so I stayed. But I have
+tried to give my daughter what advantages I could. I have a sister, you
+know, living in New York--Mrs. Elwood Tupper--perhaps you know her?"
+
+"Why, the name seems familiar," returned Bowles glibly.
+
+"Yes, she's my sister," resumed Mrs. Lee, after glancing at him
+curiously. "Dixie was with her all last winter--I thought perhaps you
+might have met her there?"
+
+Once more she gazed at him in that same inquiring way, and Bowles
+wondered if she had heard anything, but he was quick to elude the point.
+
+"Hmm," he mused, "Tupper! No, I hardly think so. When I return, though,
+I shall be glad to look her up--perhaps I can convey some message from
+you. Your daughter must find it rather close and confining in the city,
+after her fine, free life in the open. Really, Mrs. Lee, I never knew
+what living was until I came out here! Of course, I'm very new yet----"
+
+"Yes," agreed Mrs. Lee, who knew a few social sleights herself, "Dixie
+did complain of the confinement, but she----_O Dixie_!"
+
+"Yes, Mother!" replied a dutiful voice from within.
+
+"Come out on the gallery--Mr. Bowles is here. But she met some very nice
+people there--some of the real old families, you know--and I
+thought----"
+
+The door opened at this point, and Bowles leapt to his feet in
+astonishment. It was a different Dixie that appeared before him--the
+same bewitching creature who had dazzled his eyes at the Wordsworth
+Club, and she wore the very same gown. And what a wonderful
+transformation it seemed to make in her--she was so quiet and demure
+now, and she greeted him in quite the proper manner.
+
+"I was just telling Mr. Bowles, Dixie," continued Mrs. Lee, still
+holding to her fixed idea, "that you went out quite a little in New
+York--and perhaps you might have met back there."
+
+For a moment the two eyed each other shrewdly, each guessing how much
+the other had said, and then Bowles opened up the way.
+
+"Why, really, Miss Lee," he exclaimed, still gazing at her with admiring
+eyes, "you do look familiar in that dress! Perhaps we have met in a
+crush, like ships that pass in the night? May I ask at what function you
+wore this charming gown?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, Mr. Bowles," returned Dixie May; "but, rather than run
+over the whole list and recall a winter's agony, let's take it for
+granted that we met. It's a fine, large place to come away from, isn't
+it--dear old New York? Wasn't the slush of those sidewalks something
+elegant? And that steam heat! My! It never gets as hot as that out here.
+Yes, indeed, Mother, I'm sure Mr. Bowles and I have met before; but,"
+she added, and here her voice changed, "since he's traveling incognito,
+changing his name as a garment and not getting any letters from home,
+perhaps it's just as well not to dwell upon the matter."
+
+"Why, Dixie, child!" protested Mrs. Lee. "What in the world do you
+mean?"
+
+"Nothing at all, Mother, except that he is our guest. Shall we go in now
+to dinner?"
+
+They went in, and throughout the rest of the evening Bowles was guiltily
+conscious of a startled mother's eyes which regarded him with anxious
+scrutiny at first and then became very resolute and stern. Mrs. Lee had
+solved her problem, whatever it was, and settled upon her duty. Bowles
+felt a social chill creep into the air as he rose to go, and he braced
+himself for some ultimatum; but his hostess did not speak her thoughts.
+There was no further allusion to New York, or his alias, or the fact
+that he had acted a lie. All those things were taken for granted, and he
+left with a balked feeling, as if he had failed of some purpose. Her
+very silence clutched at his heart, and her passive hand-touch as they
+parted. Dixie, too, seemed to share in the general aloofness. She had
+said good-night without any friendly grip of the fingers, looking at him
+very straight, as if to fathom his deceit.
+
+Bowles lay awake that night and thought it out, and he saw where he had
+made his mistake. From the first his manner had been evasive almost to
+mendacity, and, with both Dixie and her mother, he had made a mystery of
+his past. Now the time for explanations was gone, and he was reaping his
+just reward. He should have taken Dixie into his confidence when they
+were alone beneath the cedars; he should have answered that question of
+hers when she asked it--but now it was too late.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," she had said, "who are you, anyway?"
+
+And when he had evaded her, she had never asked again. And now, through
+the same damnable ineptitude, he had estranged her mother and lost his
+welcome at the big house. All the explanations in the world would not
+square him now, for one deceit follows another and his second word was
+no better than his first. He could see with half an eye that Mrs. Lee
+distrusted him. He must seem to her candid mind no less than a polite
+adventurer, a ne'er-do-weel young profligate from the East with
+intentions as dark as his past. Nor could he bring himself to blame her,
+for the inference was logical--if a man conceals his identity and denies
+his acquaintances and friends, surely there must be something shameful
+that he is at such pains to hide.
+
+But the way out? That was what kept Bowles awake. Certainly, if he were
+a gentleman, he would stay away from the house. Nor would it be wholly
+honorable to waylay Dixie May and explain. And, besides, there was
+nothing to explain. He had references, of course, but if he gave them,
+his aunt would discover his whereabouts and summon him home--and then
+there was Christabel!
+
+The memory of those prearranged meetings at his aunt's swept over him,
+and he shuddered where he lay. Dear, pretty, patient Christabel! What if
+she should sense this conspiracy to make him marry her and lose that
+friendly smile? What if she should blush as he had blushed at each
+chance tête-à-tête, gazing nervously into his eyes to guess if he would
+yield? And to wonder if that was love! Ah no, he could never do that!
+Rather than inflict such torture upon her he would flee to the depths of
+the wilderness and hide until she was married. But his safety lay only
+in flight, for his aunt was a resolute woman, with tears and sighs at
+her command, if all else failed. Yes, he must run away--that was the way
+out.
+
+And it would solve all his problems at once. There would be no lame
+explanations to make at the house, no cheap jealousies with Hardy
+Atkins, no breaking of his cherished dream of seeing the West. He would
+move on into the White Mountains and explore their fastnesses with
+Brigham. Or, lacking Brigham, he would plunge into that wilderness
+alone.
+
+The harsh clangor of Gloomy Gus's dishpan cut short his fitful sleep,
+and he rolled out of bed with his mind made up to quit. At breakfast he
+said nothing, bolting his food with the rest of them, and followed on to
+the horse corral for a private word with Brig. But right there fate
+played him a scurvy trick, and disrupted all his schemes, for as he
+stepped around behind the corral Hardy Atkins strode in upon him and
+made signs to certain of his friends.
+
+"Now, lookee here, Mr. Man," he said, and he said it quietly for once,
+"you been four-flushin' around hyer long enough, and we give you warnin'
+to git. We got yore record and we know what you're after, so don't hand
+us out any bull. Yore name ain't Bowles and you're aimin' at Dix, but
+she's got too many good friends. Now we've let you off easy, so far, but
+Gawd he'p you if we come ag'in. Ain't that so, boys?"
+
+"You bet it is!" answered three or four, and the rest of them looked
+their disdain.
+
+But an unreasoning anger swept over Bowles at the very first word, and
+he returned the sneer with interest.
+
+"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you have threatened me before, but I am not
+afraid of you. You cannot frighten me away."
+
+"Oh, I cain't, cain't I?" jeered Hardy Atkins, while his friends rumbled
+threats from behind. "Well, _poco pronto_ you're liable to change yore
+mind. You come into this country on a Hinglish trot and we thought you
+was a sport, but now that we know better, you got to make good or git.
+Ain't that so, boys?"
+
+"You bet it is!" roared the bunch, and Atkins hitched up his shaps.
+
+"All right," he said. "You got a job with this outfit by claimin' that
+you could ride. _Now_--you're so brave--either you ride that Dunbar
+hawse the way you said or we kick you out o' camp! You can take yore
+choice."
+
+"Very well," said Bowles; "I'll ride the horse."
+
+"Like hell you will!" sneered the gang in a chorus, but Bowles did not
+heed their words.
+
+"Any time you put the saddle on him," he said, "I'll ride him."
+
+At this they stood irresolute, unable to make him out. On the morning
+that he had ridden Wa-ha-lote he was a tenderfoot, not knowing one horse
+from another, but now he had seen the worst. And yet he would climb up
+on Dunbar!
+
+"Come on--let's rope 'im!" urged Hardy Atkins, but he did not move out
+of his tracks. "No, the boss is comin' back," he said. "Let's wait till
+we're hyer by ourse'ves. All right, Mr. Bronco-bustin' Bowles, we'll fix
+you good and plenty--the first time the folks leave the house. And
+meantime, if you value yore health, you better stay down on low ground."
+
+"I will go wherever I please," answered Bowles; but he stayed down on
+the low ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE HORSE THAT KILLED DUNBAR
+
+
+In the Homeric simplicity of the cow camps, where the primitive emotions
+still rule, any soul-stirring which cannot find its expression in curses
+is pretty sure to seek the level of laughter. The boys were profoundly
+moved by Bowles' declaration of intention, but after gazing upon him for
+a spell in mingled incredulity and awe, their lips began to curl.
+
+"Aw--_him_!" they said. "Him ride Dunbar? Umph-umm! We'll wake up some
+mornin' and find him gone!"
+
+Then, as a morning or two passed and Bowles was still in his place, they
+began to lapse into jest.
+
+"Old Henry will shore be s'prised when he comes back from town,"
+observed blithesome Happy Jack. "He'll find Bowles ridin' Dunbar with a
+hackamore and feedin' him sugar from his hand. Big doin's soon to come,
+boys--boss and family goin' down to Chula Vista to-morrer."
+
+"Well, we better hog-tie Hinglish, then," grumbled Buck Buchanan; "he'll
+never last till mornin'. Gittin' right close on to that time!"
+
+"Never you mind about Hinglish," retorted Brigham Clark, whose loyalty
+had been fanned to a flame. "If it was you, Buck Buchanan, we couldn't
+see you fer dust right now. They ain't a man of ye dares to _say_ he'd
+ride Dunbar, let alone the doin' of it. Will you ride him second if he
+throws Bowles off? Well, keep yore face shut, then! The whole bunch of
+ye ought to be canned fer tryin' to git 'im killed!"
+
+"Well, let 'im go on away, then!" burst out Hardy Atkins. "_We_ never
+told 'im to ride Dunbar--we told 'im to quit his four-flushin' and
+either make good or git. There's the road down there--let 'im take to
+it!"
+
+He jerked an imperious hand at Bowles, who answered him with a scowl.
+
+"If you will kindly mind your own business, Mr. Atkins," he purled, "I
+shall certainly be greatly obliged."
+
+He gave each word the Harvard accent and tipped it off with venom, for
+Bowles was losing his repose. In fact, he was mad, mad all over, and at
+every remark he bristled like a dog. A concatenation of circumstances
+had thrown him into the company of these Texas brawlers, but he aimed to
+show by every means in his power his absolute contempt for their
+trickery and his determination to stand on his rights. He had said he
+would ride Dunbar, and that was enough--he had given his word as a
+gentleman. Therefore, he resented their insinuations and desired only to
+be left alone. Certainly he had enough on his mind to keep him occupied
+without responding to ill-natured remarks.
+
+Fate was piling things up on poor Bowles, and he earnestly longed for
+the end. There is a cynic's saying that every time a man gets into
+trouble his girl goes back on him, just to carry out the run of luck;
+and while of course it isn't true, it seemed that way to Bowles. Perhaps
+his own manner had had something to do with it, but, the morning after
+his rebuff, Dixie greeted him almost as a stranger, and, falling back
+shortly afterward into her old carefree way of talking, she began to
+josh with the boys. Then she took a long ride with Brigham, a ride that
+left him all lit up with enthusiasm and made him want to talk about
+love. As a matter of fact, Dixie had sensed something big in the air and
+was anxiously ferreting it out, but Bowles did not know about that. All
+he knew was that he disapproved of her conduct, and wondered vaguely
+what her mother would say. Not that it was any of his business, but he
+wondered all the same; and, wondering, shook his head and sighed.
+
+But three days of flirting and sleuthing brought nothing to Dixie's net.
+From the cook down, the outfit was a solid phalanx against her--they
+would talk and smile but they never showed their hand. One clue and only
+one she had--there seemed to be an unusual interest in when she was
+going to town. First on one pretext and then on another they inquired
+casually about the date, and if her folks were going along too. So,
+whatever the deviltry was, it was something that called for secrecy--and
+it was due on the day they left home. She looked them over as they
+gathered about the evening fire, and smoothed her hair down
+thoughtfully--and the next morning she started for town.
+
+The sale of his steers was making Henry Lee a lot of trouble--and the
+holding of them as well. Not being able to find a buyer at his price, he
+set the cowboys to fence mending--lest the outlaws should breach the
+wires--and went back and forth to town. And this morning his wife went
+with him, sitting close behind the grays, with Dixie riding fast behind.
+Their dust changed to haze on the horizon before any one moved a hand,
+and then Hardy Atkins turned on Bowles.
+
+"All right, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Here's where we see yore hand. I'll
+saddle that hawse if you'll ride 'im, but don't make me that trouble fer
+nothin', because if you _do_----"
+
+"Oh, shut up!" snapped Bowles, whose nerves were worn to a frazzle.
+"What's the use of talking about it? Put the saddle on him!"
+
+"Holy Jehu!" whistled Atkins. "Listen to the boy talk, will you? Must
+have somethin' on his mind--what?"
+
+"Well, quit yore foolin'!" put in Brigham abruptly. "We'll all git fired
+fer this, and him liable to git killed to boot, so hurry up and let's
+have it over with!"
+
+"I'll go ye!" laughed the ex-twister, skipping off with a sprightly
+step. "Come on, boys; it'll take the bunch of us--but I'll saddle old
+Dunbar or die! 'O-oh, hit's not the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse's
+'oofs; hit's the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway!'
+E-e-e--hoo!"
+
+He laughed and cut another caper as he ended this bald refrain, and
+Brigham glowered at him balefully.
+
+"'Hit's!'" he quoted. "'_Hit's!_' Listen to the ignorant cracker! I
+never seen a Texican yet that could talk the straight U. S.! But go on
+now, you low-flung cotton-pickers, and I'll fix Bowles fer his ridin'!"
+
+They hustled away as he spoke, the best of them to wrangle Dunbar, and
+the rest to admire the sight. Here was an event that would go down in
+Bat Wing history, and only the cook stayed away. Life had been stale,
+flat, and unprofitable to Gloomy Gus since he delivered the oration over
+Happy Jack, and the very care with which all hands refrained from
+speaking of it showed how poignant the joke had been. Faces which had
+looked pleasant to him before were repulsive now, and in this last assay
+on Bowles he saw but a recrudescence of the horse-play which had worked
+such havoc with his own pride. Therefore, he was morose and sullen and
+stayed with his pots and pans.
+
+"I want to warn you, Mr. Bowles," he called, as Bowles came,
+full-rigged, from the bunk-house. "I want to give you warnin'--thet
+hawse is dangerous!"
+
+"All right, Mr. Mosby," answered Bowles absently, as he started for the
+round corral.
+
+"He done killed a man!" croaked Gloomy Gus. "A right good cow-puncher,
+too--I knowed him well. Jim Dunbar--the top rider of the outfit. Don't
+say I never warned you, now--keep off that hawse!"
+
+"All right, Mr. Mosby," responded Bowles, but he never missed a stride.
+The time had come to show himself a man, and, like an athlete who goes
+forth to win, his thoughts were on the battle.
+
+"You want to set him limber," reiterated Brigham in his ear. "Ride 'im
+like a drunk man, and whip 'im at every jump--it gives you somethin' to
+do. Grab 'im with yore spurs every time he lights; and look out he don't
+bite yore legs. Here, take my quirt--it's heavier--and if he starts to
+go over backwards, hit 'im hard between the ears. You kin ride 'im,
+pardner, I know it! Jest keep cool and don't get stiff!"
+
+"All right, Brig," muttered Bowles; "all right!" But his eyes were on
+the corral.
+
+A cloud of dust rose on the still morning air like smoke from some
+red-burning fire, and through the poles of the fence he could see horses
+running like mad, and men with trailing ropes. Then, as the stampede
+rose to a thunder of feet, he heard a shrill yell of triumph, and
+scrambling men jerked the bars from the gate. The current of galloping
+slackened, it paused, and the leaders shot out the gap with a sea of
+high-flung heads behind. When the dust of their outrush had settled,
+there was only one horse left inside--the horse that killed Dunbar--and
+he lay grunting in the dirt.
+
+"Fetch me that hackamore!" yelled Hardy Atkins from where he knelt on
+the brute's straining neck. "Now bring me that well-rope--we'll tie up
+his dad-burned leg!"
+
+They gave him the ropes as he called for them, and he rigged them with
+masterful hands--first the rough-twisted hackamore, to go over his head
+and cut off his breath; then the two-inch well-rope, to hang from his
+neck and serve later to noose his hind foot. Then all hands tailed on to
+the throw-rope; they swayed back as he rose to his feet; and when Dunbar
+went to the end of it, the heave they gave threw him flat. He leaped up
+and flew back on his haunches, and the rope halter cut off his breath.
+His sides heaved as he struggled against it; his eyes bulged big and he
+shook his head; then, with a final paroxysm, he sank to his knees and
+they slackened away on the rope. A single mighty breath, and he was up
+on his feet and fighting; and they choked him down again. Then Hardy
+Atkins stepped in behind and picked up the end of the shoulder rope,
+where it dragged between his legs, and drew the loop up to his hocks. A
+jerk--a kick at the burn--and Dunbar was put on three legs. He fought,
+because that was his nature, but it was in vain; they trussed his foot
+up high, tied the rope's end to the neck loop, and clapped a broad blind
+over his eyes. So Dunbar was conquered, and while he squealed and
+cow-kicked, they lashed Bowles' saddle on his bowed-up back and slipped
+the bit between his teeth.
+
+There he stood at last, old Dunbar the man-killer, sweating and
+trembling and cringing his head to the blind, and Bowles jumped down off
+the fence.
+
+"All right," he said, "you can let down his foot. I'll pull up the
+blinder myself."
+
+"Say yore prayers first, Mr. Man," gritted Atkins, lolling and mopping
+his face. "If he's half as good as his promise, you'll never git off
+alive!"
+
+"Very likely," observed Bowles grimly. "You can let his foot down now."
+
+"Hey! Git a move on!" yelled a cow-puncher up on the fence. "They's
+somebody comin' up the road!"
+
+"Aw, let 'em come," drawled Atkins carelessly. "They're hurryin' up to
+see the show. Step up and look 'im over!" he grinned at Bowles. "No
+rush--you got lots of time!"
+
+"Let his foot down!" snarled Bowles, his nerves giving way to anger.
+"I'm not----"
+
+"It's Dix!" clamored the cow-puncher on the fence-top. "It's Dix!"
+
+There was a rush for the fence to make certain, and as Dixie Lee dashed
+in through the horse lot, Hardy Atkins threw down his hat and cursed.
+Then he stood irresolute, gazing first at Bowles and then at the fence,
+until suddenly she slipped through the bars and came striding across the
+corral.
+
+"Oho, Hardy Atkins," she panted, as she tapped at her boot with a quirt.
+"So this is what you were up to--riding horses while Dad went to town!
+Didn't he tell you to keep off that Dunbar horse? Well, then, you
+just----"
+
+She paused as she sensed the tense silence, and then she saw Bowles,
+walking resolutely up to the horse. In a flash it all came clear to
+her--the feud, the fights, and now this compact to ride.
+
+"Mr. Bowles!" she cried, raising her voice in a sudden command--but
+before she could get out the words Hardy Atkins laid his hand on her
+arm.
+
+"You go on back to the house!" he said, fixing her with his horse-taming
+eyes. "You go back where you belong! I'm doin' this!"
+
+"You let go of me!" stormed Dixie Lee, making a savage pass at him with
+her quirt--and then a great shout drowned their quarrel and made them
+forget everything but Bowles.
+
+The obsession of days of brooding had laid hold upon him and left him
+with a single, fixed idea--to ride Dunbar or die. And to him, no less
+than to Hardy Atkins, the coming of Dixie Lee was a disappointment. For
+a minute, he too had stood irresolute; then, with the simplicity of
+madness, he went straight to the blindfolded horse and began to lower
+his foot. As the quarrel sprang up, he gathered his reins; without
+looking back, he hooked his stirrup; and then, very gently, he rose to
+the saddle. Then the shout rang out, and he reached down and twitched up
+the blind.
+
+Gazing out from beneath the band which had held him in utter darkness,
+the deep-set rattlesnake eye of Dunbar rolled hatefully at the man on
+his back. He crooked his neck and twisted his malformed head, and Bowles
+felt him swelling like a lizard between his knees--then, with a squeal,
+he bared his teeth and snapped at his leg like a dog. The next moment
+his head went down and he rose in a series of buck-jumps, whirling
+sideways, turning half-way round, and landing with a jolt. And at every
+jolt Bowles' head snapped back and his muscles grew stiff at the jar.
+But just as the world began to grow black, and he felt himself shaken in
+his seat, the trailing neck rope lapped Dunbar about the hind legs and
+he paused to kick himself free.
+
+It was only a moment's respite, but it heartened the rider mightily. He
+caught the stirrup that he had lost, wiped the mist from his eyes, and
+settled himself deep in the saddle.
+
+"Good boy! Stay with 'im!" yelled the maniacs on the fence-posts; and
+then old Dunbar broke loose. The man never lived that could ride
+him--Bowles realized that as he clutched for the horn--and then his
+pride rose in him and he sat limber and swung the quirt. One, two, three
+times, he felt himself jarred to the center, and the blood burst
+suddenly from his mouth and nose and splashed in a crimson flood. He had
+no knowledge of what was happening now, for he could not see; and then,
+with a heart-breaking wrench, he felt himself hurled from the saddle and
+sent tumbling heels over head. He struck, and the corral dirt rose in
+his face; there was a cloud before him, a mist; and then, as the
+dizziness vanished, he beheld the man-killer charging at him through the
+dust with all his teeth agleam.
+
+[Illustration: "THE MAN-KILLER CHARGED AT HIM THROUGH THE DUST"]
+
+"Look out!" yelled the crowd on the fence-top. "Look out!"
+
+And Bowles scrambled up and fell over to one side. His knees were weak;
+they would not bear him; and through the dust cloud he saw Dunbar slide
+and turn again. Then of a sudden he was in a tangle of legs and stirrups
+and striking feet, and somebody grabbed him by the arm. Three pistol
+shots rang out above him; he was snaked violently aside; and old Dunbar
+went down like a log. Somebody had killed him, that was certain; but it
+was not Brigham, for he could tell by the characteristic cursing that it
+was his partner who had pulled him out and was dragging him across the
+corral. He blinked and opened his eyes as he fetched up against the
+fence--and there was Dixie Lee, with a big, smoking pistol in her hand,
+striding after him out of the dust.
+
+She looked down at him, her eyes blazing with anger; and then, snapping
+the empty cartridges out of the Colt's, she handed it back to a puncher.
+
+"Well," she said, "I hope you boys are satisfied now!" And without a
+second look at Brigham, Bowles, Hardy Atkins, or the remains of Dunbar,
+she turned and strode back to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+When Bat Wing Bowles got up out of the dirt he was shaken in body and
+spirit. His corporeal frame felt as if it had been passed through a
+carpet-beater, and he had lost some of his most precious illusions.
+Certainly, if there was any way by which a tenderfoot might hope to
+achieve a little hard-earned fame in the Far West, it was not by riding
+bronks; and now, before he could wipe the blood from his nose, they were
+blaming him for all their troubles.
+
+"The blank-blanked greenhorn!" cursed Hardy Atkins, pacing to and fro
+and gazing at the hulk of Dunbar. "I _tol'_ 'im to keep off that hawse!
+Never would've let 'im rode 'im--not for a thousand dollars! And then,
+the minute my back's turned--and Dix right there to copper the play--he
+goes and pulls off _this_! But I don't care--_I_ never done nothin'! You
+boys seen 'im--he done it himse'f!"
+
+And then, all the anger and blood-lust that had been in Bowles' heart
+for days went suddenly to his right hand, and, putting his shoulder
+behind it, he smote the ex-twister on the jaw. It was a wicked blow,
+very much like the one he had received himself, and it laid the false
+cow-puncher low. He came up reaching for his gun, and Bowles knocked him
+down again, and took the gun away. Then he passed it on to Brigham, and
+offered to fight him some more--or anybody! A raging devil of combat
+seemed to possess him, and he shouted for war, and more war. The cowboys
+drew away from him as from a man who has lost his right mind, and it was
+not until Brigham had cajoled him into dipping his hot head into the
+horse-trough that Bowles left off his raving. A drink of Mr. Mosby's
+strong coffee, and a rest on his bed by the sheds, and his sanity was
+completely restored--but his illusions were lost forever!
+
+Never again would Samuel Bowles try to beat the cow-puncher at his own
+game; never would he mount a wild horse; and never would he put faith in
+womankind. Not out West, anyway. To be sure, Dixie Lee had saved him
+from the man-killer, but she had done it in such a way as to injure his
+pride irreparably. And if anybody had cooled his fevered brow after the
+accident, it certainly was not Dixie, but Brigham Clark, when he ducked
+his head in the horse-trough. A sudden aversion to his surroundings--a
+stern dislike for sentiment and the Bat Wing--came over Bowles as he lay
+moping in his blankets, and, rising on his elbow, he called to Brigham.
+
+"Brig," he said, "I'm going to quit this accursed ranch--would you mind
+catching my private horse?"
+
+"No, ner mine neither!" fulminated Brig. "I jest been waitin' fer ye to
+say the word--been ready myse'f fer a week!"
+
+He hopped on his horse as he spoke, and rode out into the pasture, and
+as he returned with their private mounts Gloomy Gus came over from the
+fire.
+
+"What ye goin' to do, Brig," he inquired; "quit?"
+
+"Yep," answered Brig, as he lashed their beds on his spare horse;
+"gittin' too bad fer me. Next thing you know, somebody'd git killed."
+
+"That's right," agreed Gus gloomily; "gittin' pretty bad around hyer.
+Cow-punchin' ain't what it used to be. Well, I'm sorry to see you go."
+
+He put them up a lunch and watched them off, and then turned back to his
+pots and kettles, grumbling and shaking his head.
+
+That was their only farewell, but as they rode out the gate, Dixie Lee
+appeared at the big house door and looked after them as they passed.
+Their mounts alone told the story of their departure, and their beds on
+the horse behind; but though she knew they were quitting, she stood
+silent and made no sign.
+
+"Want to say good-by?" inquired Brig, glancing up at her from under his
+hat, but Bowles did not reply. A deadly apathy had succeeded his
+passion, and he was sullen and incapable of higher thoughts. All he
+wanted now was to get away--after that he could think what to do.
+
+They turned their horses' heads toward Chula Vista, where they must go
+to draw their time, and after they had ridden a mile Bowles suddenly
+turned in his saddle--but Dixie had passed inside. A deep and melancholy
+sadness came over him now, and he sighed as he slumped down in his seat,
+but Brigham did not notice his silence. At noon they ate as they rode,
+getting a drink at a nester's windmill, and at night they camped by a
+well. Then it was that Bowles woke up from his brooding and saw that he
+was not alone in his mood--Brigham, too, was downcast and wrapt up in
+his thoughts. His mind ran quickly back to ascertain the cause, and he
+remembered the cherished job.
+
+For one short, eventful month Brigham Clark had been a boss. A
+straw-boss, to be sure, but still a boss--and now he had lost his job.
+Never again, perhaps, would he rise to the proud eminence of a
+"straw"--and yet he had quit his place instantly to throw in his lot
+with him. A wave of compassion and self-reproach swept over Bowles at
+the thought, and he forgot his own ugly mood.
+
+"Brig," he said, as they sat close to their tiny fire, "I'm sorry you
+had to quit. If it hadn't been for me, and Hardy Atkins, you'd be back
+there now, on your job. It might have led to something better, too. Mr.
+Lee often said----"
+
+"Aw, fergit it," grumbled Brig morosely. "_I_ didn't want the job.
+What's the use of bein' a puncher, anyway? They's nothin' in it but hard
+work. I've got a good mind to hike back to the Gila and go to pitchin'
+hay."
+
+"Well, if I'm in your way at all," urged Bowles, "don't hesitate to say
+so. I only proposed this White Mountain trip----"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," broke in Brig. "I'll be glad to git away from it
+all--git where they ain't no girls, nor mail, nor nothin'. Up there in
+them big pine trees where a man can fergit his troubles. But I want to
+go back past the Bat Wing. I told Dix all about it last week, and I
+shore want to bid her good-by. There's a good girl--Dix--but she can't
+understand. She says if I had any nerve I'd go and take a chance--marry
+the girl and wait and see what happened to me--my girl down on the
+river, you know."
+
+Bowles nodded gravely and waited for him to go on. It was a month since
+Brigham had spoken of his girl, and he had never discussed the affair
+since that first rush of confidences, until now suddenly he dived into
+the midst of it.
+
+"No," continued Brig, gazing mournfully at his dead cigarette; "Dix is
+all right, but she don't know them Mormons like I do. She don't know
+what they're liable to do. This feller that's tryin' to marry my girl is
+the bishop's own son--he's that feller I beat up so bad when I took to
+the hills a while back--and he's bound to do me dirt. My girl won't
+marry me, nohow--not lessen I become a Mormon--and shore as you're
+settin' there, boy, if I take that gal from the bishop's son, I'm
+elected to go on a mission!
+
+"I know it! Hain't the old man got it in fer me? And then what's to
+become of my wife? Am I goin' to leave her fer two years and that
+dastard a-hangin' around? Not on yore life--if they summoned me fer a
+mission, I'd either take my wife along or I'd kill that bishop's
+son--one or the other. But that's the worst of it--the bishop's kid is
+on the spot, and I'm hidin' out like a coyote. My girl keeps a-writin'
+like she never gets no letters, and beggin' me to come back and be good!
+But I can't do it--that's all--I been a renegade too long."
+
+"Well," suggested Bowles, after a long pause, "perhaps we could go by
+that way. Maybe her folks are keeping your letters from her, or
+something like that. If there is anything I can do for you, Brig, don't
+hesitate to ask for it. I might go around and see her for you--or if you
+need money----"
+
+"No," protested Brigham petulantly; "money won't buy me nothin' with
+her. I'm up ag'in the whole Mormon church--and if you knew half of what
+I do about 'em, you'd know that you can't buck these bishops. The Mormon
+folks is fine people--they'll feed you, and help you, and do anything in
+the world fer you--but them priests and apostles and bishops--umph-umm!
+The more you know about 'em, the worse it scares you up--and I'm shore
+down on their black books. No, pardner, I ain't got a chanc'st, so let's
+fergit it. I talked it all over with Dix, and she kinder heartened me
+up; but it ain't no use. My girl don't like me enough to cut loose and
+quit her people, and I won't turn Mormon fer nobody--so there you are.
+Come on, let's go to bed!"
+
+It was a hard and tragic problem, and long after the fatalistic Brig had
+gone to sleep, Bowles lay awake and tried to find a way out. His own
+petty griefs seemed sordid by the side of it, and all the way to town he
+turned it over in his mind. But, now that he had dismissed it forever,
+Brigham Clark became his old carefree self again.
+
+"I'll tell you what we'll do!" he exclaimed, as they talked of their
+trip to the hills. "We'll hunt up old Bill Jump, and show him the latest
+in lies. I betcher I can make that old feller ashamed of himse'f--he's
+jest one of these here common, long-haired liars that don't know nothin'
+but to go you one better, anyway. But you wait till I pull that
+Hippodrome stuff on 'im--I betcher that'll make his jaw drop. Never did
+git to spring that on the boys--say, tell me that ag'in about the clown
+that fished up bulldogs outer the lake--and them elephants comin' over
+the waterfall! Yes, sir; if old Bill is up in them White Mountains,
+we'll certainly make him look sick!"
+
+It was a glorious thing to contemplate, and, once in town, they made
+haste to lay in their supplies; but when Brigham came back from his
+interview with the boss Bowles could see that his enthusiasm had been
+shaken. For reasons of his own, Bowles had preferred not to meet the
+Lees, and he had asked Brig to convey his regrets and a release for his
+two months' pay. If eighty dollars would compensate for the defunct
+Dunbar, Mr. Bowles was satisfied; otherwise, he would be glad to meet
+the difference. But the trouble in Brigham's eye was not one of dollars
+and cents--he had something big on his mind.
+
+"Say," he said, as he beckoned Bowles to a corner of the corral, "what
+d'ye think Mrs. Lee sprung on me when I went around fer my pay? And, by
+the way, they was a deputy sheriff inquirin' fer you when I come out by
+the desk, so come away from that gate--but what d'ye think she said?"
+
+"Why, I'm sure I can't imagine," answered Bowles, with his old-time
+calm. "What was it?"
+
+"Well, she had a big yeller telegraph in her hand that she was kinder
+wavin' around--I never did find out what it was all about--but when I
+come in to the hotel she flew at me like and says:
+
+"'Mr. Clark, do you know who that young man is you're travelin' with?'
+
+"Well, sir, the way she said it made me mad clean through, and I says to
+her:
+
+"'No, Mrs. Lee, I don't--and, what's more, I don't care! He's a good
+pardner, that's all I know--and that's all I want to know!'
+
+"And then I turned around and walked out. I don't know what them Lees
+have got to be so proud about, the way old Henry used to cave around,
+but I showed her, by grab, they was one puncher she couldn't run it
+over! She always did make me mad," observed Brig, as he stole quiet
+glances at his friend, "but I knowed mighty well you wasn't no _crook_
+and--and I don't care _what_ you done!"
+
+"Well, thank you just as much--I haven't done anything, Brig," answered
+Bowles with a reassuring smile. "But," he added, "that's no reason for
+not getting out of town."
+
+They packed their horse hurriedly, and Bowles rode on ahead, but once on
+the open prairie he gave way to a hearty laugh.
+
+"Brig," he said, "what in the world do you think I've done?"
+
+"Well, I dunno," mumbled Brig, looking him over shrewdly. "Of course, I
+knowed all along they was nothin' to that Christabel talk--stands to
+reason a man wouldn't leave home for a little thing like that. About
+that aunt, now, that sounds a little more likely--but I've knowed
+fellers that come out here jest fer fun."
+
+"Yes, but this deputy sheriff--and all that!"
+
+"We-ell," drawled Brigham, with a sly twinkle in his eye, "I heeard a
+little more from him than what I told you at the first!"
+
+"Oh, indeed! And what else did you hear?"
+
+"Well----" Brig stopped and stuck his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "He
+said it was a woman that wanted you!"
+
+"My aunt!" exclaimed Bowles, striking his leg; but Brig only spat and
+grinned.
+
+"Sure!" he said, and grinned again.
+
+"I have it!" cried Bowles. "Mrs. Lee wrote back and told her sister I
+was here--and then my aunt began telegraphing! That telegram Mrs. Lee
+had was from her!"
+
+"Sure thing," agreed Brig; and Bowles looked up to find him smirking.
+
+"Well, what's the matter?" he demanded. "Say, you're pretty smart,
+aren't you, Brig?" he observed, with pitying scorn. "They don't put one
+over on you very often, do they?"
+
+"No, indeedy!" swaggered Brigham; and then they both laughed--to
+themselves. But the jest put an effectual end to the discussion, since
+Brigham did not know what it was he was supposed to have discovered, and
+Bowles took no pains to enlighten him. It was enough that Brig
+considered him a very gay dog indeed, and he did not deny the soft
+impeachment. So, each with his satisfied smile, they jogged along across
+the plains, dragging their pack animal behind them and heading for the
+Bat Wing.
+
+All that day they rode on through the mellow sunshine, and the next
+morning found them still on their way; but just as the well-remembered
+ranch came into view there was a rattle of wheels from behind and they
+swung out to give Henry Lee the road. He was driving the fiery grays,
+and they fought gamely against the delay, but he pulled them down to a
+walk while he handed Bowles a note.
+
+"Telegram for you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Brig, stop at the ranch when
+you go by--I want to talk with you."
+
+There was much more that might have been said, and Mrs. Lee smiled
+approvingly at Bowles, but the grays were within sight of the haystack
+and they cut the talk short with a bolt. Then Bowles glanced through the
+telegram and thrust it into his shirt.
+
+"My aunt----" he began, and as the grin on Brig's face widened, he
+stopped short and fell into a sulk. "No use telling you anything, Brig,"
+he said at last; "you can guess by the color of my eye."
+
+"Sure!" said Brig, after a moment of baffled silence. "Yore aunt seems
+to think a whole lot of you. And, speakin' about women-folks, what's
+this comin' down off the hill?"
+
+He nodded at the foothills to the west, and as Bowles gazed he saw Dixie
+Lee coming down the broad slope like an arrow. She was riding
+Wa-ha-lote, too, and at sight of that noble charger the heart of Bat
+Wing Bowles became sad--or perhaps it was at sight of Dixie. However
+that may be, he continued on his way with melancholy resignation; while
+Brig viewed her coming with alarm.
+
+"Here's where I ketch hell fer somethin'!" he muttered, as she sighted
+him from afar; and when she rode up and faced him he hung his head like
+a truant.
+
+"You Brig!" she said at last, whipping the hair from her eyes with one
+hand, "you haven't got git-up enough in you to win an Indian squaw!
+You'll make a lovely husband for somebody, and that's a fact--the way
+you do your courting. Who do you think is up to the big house waiting
+for you?"
+
+"Huh?" demanded Brig, now suddenly all attention.
+
+"Well, she's been there for more than a day--while you were out shooting
+prairie-dogs. What she sees in you is more than I can say, but----"
+
+"Who're ye talkin' about?" barked Brigham, throwing loose his
+leading-rope.
+
+"I'm talking about your girl," answered Dixie with Spartan directness.
+"Here, I'll lead your pack--go ahead and show her your dust."
+
+"I'll do that," said Brig, leaning forward as she spoke; and, passing
+over the rope, he went spurring up the road.
+
+Dixie Lee gave Bowles a level look from beneath her tumbled hair, and
+touched Wa-ha-lote with the spur. Her manner seemed to be a disclaimer
+of any responsibility for their being left together, and yet somehow it
+was very obvious that the stage had been set for an interview. But if
+Dixie had any intentions, she concealed them effectually, and her manner
+was one of good-natured tolerance.
+
+"Well, look at that crazy fool ride," she observed, as Brig disappeared
+in his own dust. "You'd think from the way he travels he was the keenest
+lover in the world." She paused here and laughed to herself.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles, with a certain brotherly pride. "Old
+Brig thinks a lot of that girl."
+
+"Well, maybe he does," conceded Dixie; "but he certainly makes me
+provoked. I declare, the way some of these men----" she paused again and
+bit her lip. Mr. Bowles was one of those men, too. "I reckon it's all
+right," she continued resignedly; "but when a woman has to ride clear
+over to the Gila, and propose for a man, and steal his girl for him, and
+then round him up and send him in, I guess she has some excuse to speak
+her mind. Don't you think so, Mr. Bowles? Well, then, if your friend
+Brigham had had his way, he would have hit for the summit of the White
+Mountains, and his girl would have been married to a Mormon! It makes me
+mad, Mr. Bowles, I declare it does! The idea of leaving that poor little
+girl over there and never going near her, when all the time she was
+begging him to come back, and her folks were reading her letters. She
+couldn't _write_ it to him--she had to _tell_ him--and he never showed
+up at all. Please don't apologize for him, Mr. Bowles; I'm sure there's
+not a word to be said."
+
+Mr. Bowles bowed his head and felt very humble indeed, as if he, too, in
+some inexplicable way, had erred and been rebuked.
+
+"And now," said Dixie at last, "Father'll make Mr. Brig his wagon-boss,
+and they'll get married and live at the ranch. Simple, isn't it?"
+
+"Why, it seems so," admitted Bowles; "but how do you know he will?"
+
+"How do I know?" repeated Dixie, rolling her eyes on him. "Why, Mr.
+Bowles, have you been around the Bat Wing for two months and failed to
+note who was boss? Right after you and Brigham Clark left I went down
+and _fired_ that Hardy Atkins--so you don't need to be bashful about
+coming back."
+
+Her voice trailed off a little as she ended, and Bowles started and
+looked at the ground. New worlds and vistas appeared before him, and
+visions and sudden dreams--and then he was back by her side, and the
+road was passing by.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said at last. "It's my own fault--I should have
+explained at the beginning. But now your mother has written to her
+sister, and she has told my aunt, and so I've got to move on. She's
+telegraphing already." He showed her the yellow message and slipped it
+back into his pocket. "And there was a deputy sheriff inquiring for me,"
+he added bitterly.
+
+"Oh, dear!" pouted Dixie, yanking at the reluctant pack-horse. "I just
+knew she'd do it. Mother means well, but she's a New Yorker, and--well,
+I hope she's satisfied!"
+
+"Yes, I hope so too," added Bowles. "I never did have anything to be
+ashamed of, but--do you know who I am?"
+
+"No, I don't," answered Dixie May. "And I don't care, either," she
+added, glancing across at him with clear-seeing eyes. "I always knew you
+were a gentleman, and--say, what's the matter with that pack?"
+
+She dismounted quickly as she spoke, and Bowles dropped off to help.
+Then, after the ropes had been tightened, they stood silent within the
+circle of their horses.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," began Dixie, leaning one arm on the pack and looking
+thoughtfully away, "being the man you are, you--you wouldn't compel a
+lady to apologize to you, would you?"
+
+"Why no, no--certainly not!" gasped Bowles, alarmed by a mistiness in
+her eyes.
+
+"Because if that's what you're going away for----"
+
+"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" protested Bowles, now suddenly stirred to the
+depths. "Don't think of it--not for a moment! No, indeed! I will confess
+that I was a little hurt by your--but that's all right! That's all
+right! You don't know my aunt, do you, Miss Lee? I can't explain it to
+you, but--well, she's a very determined woman, in her way, and--well,
+she wants me to come home."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes, and so I'd better move on. I'm sorry that Brig can't go along with
+me, but--well, I can go alone. Do you remember one time, when we were
+coming West, I spoke about the spirit of the country--the spirit of the
+West? Well, I have found it--it is to move on!"
+
+"And never come back?" inquired Dixie quickly.
+
+"Well, something like that," admitted Bowles.
+
+"Yes, I do remember that," responded Dixie, with a reminiscent smile. "I
+remember it well. We were alone on the train and we said all kinds of
+things--I didn't know you very well then. I remember you told me once,
+if I'd help you find the Far West, you'd be my faithful knight--and all
+that. And I helped you, too, didn't I?"
+
+"Why, yes!" said Bowles, puzzled by her air.
+
+"Well, what about being my knight?" demanded Dixie, with sudden
+frankness. "You've done well out here, Mr. Bowles, but there's one thing
+I'm disappointed in--you don't keep the customs of the country!"
+
+"Why, what do you mean, Miss Lee?" inquired Bowles.
+
+A sudden smile illuminated Dixie's face--the same smile that had taken
+possession of him when he had forgotten and stolen a kiss--and then she
+turned away and blushed.
+
+"Well," she said, "you're the first Bat Wing man that has gone away
+without--without proposing to me!"
+
+She glanced at him defiantly and folded her arms--and Bowles felt his
+reason eclipsed, and the world go dark before him. A thousand riotous
+thoughts clamored suddenly for recognition, and his brain reeled at the
+shock. Then he opened his eyes, and she was still smiling at him, but
+the smile had a twinkle of mischief in it. The memory of her legion of
+suitors came over him now, and her carefree, jesting ways, and he became
+of a sudden calm. They had all proposed, and she had led them on, and
+then she had told them no. But she should never deal that ignominy to
+him. If she scorned his humble suit and desired only to add his scalp to
+the rest, he would escape at least with his pride--he would never let
+her say he had proposed.
+
+"Ah, you must excuse me, Miss Lee," he said, speaking with a formal
+restraint. "Much as I value your happiness, I--I cannot observe
+this--custom of the country!"
+
+He spat the words out bitterly, and closed his lips--as if there was
+more he might say. But Dixie did not lose her smile.
+
+"Maybe I'd accept you," she suggested with a roguish twinkle, and once
+more he gazed into her eyes to read there if she was his friend. But a
+woman's eyes are deceptive, and hers spoke of many things--she smiled,
+the old dazzling smile, but there was mischief in the depths. He sighed
+and drew away.
+
+"Ah, no," he said, "you cannot understand." Then, as she waited, his
+heart turned to bitterness and he spoke on as the thoughts came.
+"Really, Miss Lee, it pains me--I cannot believe it. What is one man,
+more or less, that you should hurt me like this? Dixie"--he raised his
+downcast eyes and regarded her reproachfully--"I have dreamed about you.
+I have worshiped you from afar--I have fought my way to be near you. You
+don't know how it would pain me--after all I have hoped--to have
+you----"
+
+"Aw, Bowles," chided Dixie, reaching out her hand, "can't you see that I
+want you?"
+
+And then Bowles' dream came true.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bat Wing Bowles, by Dane Coolidge
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bat Wing Bowles, by Dane Coolidge
+
+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: Bat Wing Bowles
+
+Author: Dane Coolidge
+
+Illustrator: D Hutchison
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36134]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAT WING BOWLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Louise Setzer, Mary Meehan and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>BAT WING BOWLES</h1>
+
+<h2>BY DANE COOLIDGE</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Author of "Hidden Water" and "The Texican"</span></h3>
+
+<h3>Illustrated by D. C. Hutchison</h3>
+
+
+<h3>NEW YORK<br />
+FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY<br />
+PUBLISHERS</h3>
+
+<h3>COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY<br />
+FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</h3>
+
+<h3>COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY<br />
+STREET &amp; SMITH, NEW YORK</h3>
+
+<h3><i>All rights reserved, including that of translation
+into foreign languages</i></h3>
+
+<h3><i>March, 1914</i></h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a>
+<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"'WHY, HELLO THERE, COWBOY!' SHE CHALLENGED BLUNTLY"</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. <span class="smcap">Mr. Bowles</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. <span class="smcap">The Far West</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. <span class="smcap">The Bat Wing Ranch</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. <span class="smcap">Brigham</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. <span class="smcap">Wa-ha-lote</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. <span class="smcap">The Round-up</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. <span class="smcap">The Queen at Home</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. <span class="smcap">A Cowboy's Life</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. <span class="smcap">Reduced to the Ranks</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. <span class="smcap">The First Smile</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. <span class="smcap">Coney Island</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. <span class="smcap">Promoted</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. <span class="smcap">A Letter from the Postmistress</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. <span class="smcap">The English Lord</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. <span class="smcap">Burying the Hatchet</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. <span class="smcap">The Straw-boss</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. <span class="smcap">And His Squirrel Story</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. <span class="smcap">The Rough-riders</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. <span class="smcap">A Common Brawl</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. <span class="smcap">The Death of Happy Jack</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. <span class="smcap">A Call</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. <span class="smcap">The Horse that Killed Dunbar</span></a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. <span class="smcap">The Custom of the Country</span></a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+<p><a href="#illus1">"'Why, hello there, cowboy!' she challenged bluntly"</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illus2">"Only Bowles, the man from the East, rose and took off his hat"</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illus3">"'You want to be careful how you treat these Arizona girls!'"</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#illus4">"The man-killer charged at him through the dust"</a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>BAT WING BOWLES</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. BOWLES</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a fine windy morning in March and Dixie Lee, of Chula Vista,
+Arizona, was leaving staid New York at the gate marked "Western
+Limited." A slight difference with the gatekeeper, who seemed to doubt
+every word she said, cast no cloud upon her spirits, and she was
+cheerfully searching for her ticket when a gentleman came up from
+behind. At sight of the trim figure at the wicket, he too became
+suddenly happy, and it looked as if the effete East was losing two of
+its merriest citizens.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, good-morning, Miss Lee!" he said, bowing and smiling radiantly as
+she glanced in his direction. "Are you going out on this train?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;yes," she replied, gazing into her handbag with a preoccupied
+frown. "That is, if I can find my ticket!"</p>
+
+<p>She found it on the instant, but the frown did not depart. She had
+forgotten the young man's name. It was queer how those New York names
+slipped her memory&mdash;but she remembered his face distinctly. She had met
+him at some highbrow affair&mdash;it was a reception or some such social
+maelstrom&mdash;and, yes, his name was Bowles!</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, Mr. Bowles," she exclaimed as he gallantly took her bag;
+but a furtive glance at his face left her suddenly transfixed with
+doubts. Not that his expression changed&mdash;far from that&mdash;but a fleeting
+twinkle in his eyes suggested some hidden joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, isn't your name Bowles?" she stammered. "I met you at the
+Wordsworth Club, you know, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes&mdash;quite right!" he assured her politely. "You have a wonderful
+memory for names, Miss Lee. Shall we go on down to your car?"</p>
+
+<p>Dixie Lee regarded the young man questioningly and with a certain
+Western disfavor. He was one of those trim and proper creatures that
+seemed to haunt Wordsworth societies, welfare meetings, and other
+culture areas known only to the cognoscente and stern-eyed Eastern
+aunts. In fact, he seemed to personify all those qualities of breeding
+and education which a long winter of compulsory "finishing" had taught
+her to despise; and yet&mdash;well, if it were not for his clothes and
+manners and the way he dropped his "r's" he might almost pass for human.
+But she knew his name wasn't Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a person there by the name of Bowles, but the hostess had
+mumbled when she presented this one&mdash;and they had talked quite a little,
+too. She glanced at him again and a question trembled on her lips; but
+names were nothing out where she came from, and she let it go for
+Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>The hypothetical Mr. Bowles was a tall and slender young man, of a type
+that ordinarily maddened her beyond all reason and prompted her to say
+cruel things which she was never sorry for afterward. He had a clear
+complexion, a Cupid's bow mouth, and eyes as innocent as a girl's. They
+were of a deep violet hue, very soft and soulful, and had a truly
+cultured way of changing&mdash;when he talked&mdash;to mirror a thousand shades of
+interest, courtesy and concern; but the way they had flickered when he
+took over the name of Bowles suggested a real man behind the veil. His
+manners, of course, were irreproachable; and not even a haberdasher
+could take exception to his clothes. He was, in fact, attired strictly
+according to the mode, in a close-fitting suit of striped gray, with
+four-inch cuffs above his box-toed shoes, narrow shoulders, and a
+low-crowned derby hat, now all the rage but affected for many years only
+by Dutch comedians.</p>
+
+<p>When he removed this hat, which he did whenever he stood in her
+presence, he revealed a very fine head of hair which had been brushed
+straight back from his forehead until each strand knew its separate
+place; and yet, far from being pleased at this final evidence of
+conscientious endeavor, Dixie May received him almost with a sniff.</p>
+
+<p>"And are you really on your way to Arizona, Miss Lee?" he inquired,
+carefully leaving the "r" out of "are" and putting the English on
+"really." "Why, how fortunate! I am going West myself! Perhaps we can
+renew our acquaintance on the way. Those were jolly stories you were
+telling me at the Wordsworth Club&mdash;very improperly, to be sure, but all
+the more interesting on that account. About the round-up cook, you know,
+and the man who couldn't say 'No.' Nothing like that in California, I
+suppose. I'm off for Los Angeles, myself."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," answered Dixie Lee, waving California airily aside;
+"Arizona is good enough for me! Say, I'm going to ask this man where my
+section is."</p>
+
+<p>She fished out her Pullman ticket and showed it to a waiting porter, who
+motioned her down the train.</p>
+
+<p>"The fourth car, lady," he said. "Car Number Four!"</p>
+
+<p>"Car Four!" cried Bowles, setting down the suitcase with quite a
+dramatic start. "Why&mdash;why, isn't this remarkable, Miss Lee? To think
+that we should take the same train&mdash;on the same day&mdash;and then have the
+very same car! But, don't you know, you never finished that last story
+you were telling me&mdash;about the cowboy who went to the picnic&mdash;and now I
+shall demand the end of it. Really, Miss Lee, I enjoyed your tales
+immensely&mdash;but don't let me keep you waiting!"</p>
+
+<p>He hurried on, still commenting upon the remarkable coincidence; and as
+a memory of the reception came back to her and she recalled the avid way
+in which this same young man had hung upon her words, a sudden doubt, a
+shrewd questioning, came over the mind of Dixie Lee. Back in Arizona,
+now, a man with any git-up-and-git to him might&mdash;but, pshaw, this was
+not Arizona! And he was not that kind of man! No, indeed! The idea of
+one of these New York Willies doing the sleuth act and tagging her to
+the train!</p>
+
+<p>At the same time Dixie Lee had her misgivings about this correct young
+man, because she <i>knew</i> his name was not Bowles. More than that, his
+language displeased her, reminding her as it did of her long winter's
+penance among the culturines. Three days more of highbrow conversation
+would just about finish her off&mdash;she must be stern, very stern, if she
+would avert the impending disaster! So she stabbed her neatly-trimmed
+little sombrero with a hatpin and waited for Mr. Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?" he purled as he made bold
+to sit down beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," she answered, showing her white teeth in a simpering
+smile. "Simply heavenly. Don't you know, it reminds me of those lines in
+Wordsworth&mdash;you remember&mdash;I think it was in his 'Idiot Boy.' Oh, how do
+they go?"</p>
+
+<p>She knitted her brows and Mr. Bowles regarded her thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was in his 'Lines Written in Early Spring,'" he suggested
+guardedly.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she insisted. "It was in 'The Idiot Boy'&mdash;either that or in 'Lines
+Written to the Same Dog.' I forget which. Anyway, it told all about the
+rain, you know, and the clouds&mdash;and all that. Don't you remember? I
+thought you were full of Wordsworth."</p>
+
+<p>This last, was thrown out for a bait, to get Mr. Bowles to extend
+himself, but it failed of its effect. A somber smile took the place of
+the expected frenzy and he muttered half to himself as he gazed out of
+the window.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that you say?" she questioned sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, pardon me," he exclaimed, recovering himself with a sudden access
+of manner; "I was talking to myself, don't you know? But, really, I <i>am</i>
+pretty full of Wordsworth; so, if you don't mind, we'll talk about
+something else. My aunt, you know, is a great devotee of all the nature
+poets, and I attend the meetings to please her. It's an awful bore
+sometimes, too, I assure you; that's why your face was so welcome to me
+when I chanced to see you at the club-rooms. That lecturer was such a
+conceited ass and those women were so besotted in their admiration of
+him that I looked around to see if there was a single sane and
+reasonable creature in the room&mdash;and there you were, as stern and
+uncompromising as an angel and&mdash;oh, well, I formed a different
+conception of angels, right there. You were so delightfully humorous
+too, when Mrs. Melvine introduced us&mdash;and, well, really, Miss Lee, you
+are partly responsible for my leaving New York. I never fully realized
+before what our Western country must be like; I never dreamed that there
+was a place to flee to when the conventions of society grew irksome; but
+when you told me of your ranch, and the cowboys, and all the wonderful
+happenings of that wild and carefree life I&mdash;I made up my mind to chuck
+the whole thing, don't you know, and strike out for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" breathed Dixie Lee, squinting down her eyes and regarding him
+with a shrewd smile. "So you're running away to be a cowboy, eh? Going
+West to fight the Indians! Well, well! But let me ask you one question,
+Mr. Bowles&mdash;if that's your name&mdash;I trust you don't plan to begin your
+depredations in my part of the country; because if you do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear Miss Lee," protested Mr. Bowles, "you have quite a mistaken
+idea, I assure you. Really, now, I hope you give me credit for more
+discretion than that. The fact is, I have an old college friend on a
+ranch in California and, though I have not taken my aunt entirely into
+confidence, I am really going out to make him a visit. It's all very
+well, you know, to read about sunsets in Wordsworth, but why not go out
+into the Far West and see the sun set indeed? That's what I say, but of
+course I would not offend her&mdash;she simply thinks my health is failing
+and I need a Western trip."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Dixie Lee quietly. "So <i>you've</i> got an aunt, too, eh? What
+did you say her name was?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mrs.&mdash;er&mdash;Bowles!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why Mrs. <i>Er</i>-Bowles?" queried Dixie May, relentlessly. "Why not
+Mrs. Bowles straight? Now, you know, Mr. Bowles, it looks very much to
+me as if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Her former name was Earl," interposed Mr. Bowles suavely, and carefully
+leaving out the "r." "My father's brother married a very dear friend of
+ours, a Mrs. Earl, and I sometimes call her so still&mdash;inadvertently, you
+know. I am an orphan now and Mrs. Earl&mdash;ah, Bowles&mdash;has taken me as a
+son. But you can readily understand how a young man of my age and
+disposition might not always fall in with a somewhat elderly lady's
+views of life, especially in regard to cultural influences, and while I
+love her very dearly and wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's too bad about you!" observed Dixie Lee heartlessly; and then
+for quite a while she looked out of the car window as drab and dirty
+tenements slipped by and the train plunged into a tunnel.</p>
+
+<p>"How far West are you going?" she inquired, waking up suddenly from her
+reverie. "Lemme see your ticket. Um-m! Well, we travel together as far
+as Albuquerque, New Mex, and there we say 'Good-by.' I reckon California
+is about your size, Mr. Bowles, but don't you make any mistake and drop
+off in Arizona or the cowboys will scare you up some. As for the rest of
+it, I don't care what name a man goes by, but I see you are down on your
+ticket here as 'Houghton.'"</p>
+
+<p>There was a challenge in her voice; but Bowles was not dismayed.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, really, Miss Lee," he began, "why quibble over the accident of a
+name? Whether my name is Houghton, as I have signed it here, or Bowles,
+has nothing to do with the case. The fact is, I am suffering from an
+excess of aunts and Wordsworth, much in the same way that you are,
+perhaps, and my heart has gone out to the West. Be a good fellow now and
+help me out. Tell me about the country and what I would better do; and,
+though it is a small return, you shall have one more devoted slave to
+worship at your feet."</p>
+
+<p>A fleeting smile came into his eyes as he delivered himself of this
+last, and the queen of the Bat Wing Ranch paused suddenly to make sure
+there was no mistake. It would be hard indeed to find oneself laughed at
+by a suède New Yorker, and yet&mdash;well, he seemed to mean it, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Rise up, then, Sir Knight," she said, tapping him lightly with her
+sombrero; "and be mighty particular to change cars when we get to
+Albuquerque&mdash;otherwise the Chula Vista cowboys will make you hard to
+catch."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FAR WEST</h3>
+
+
+<p>Three days is a short time in which to post a man on the Far West, but
+if you don't care what you say, and say it quick, you can give him a
+pretty good fill. Dixie Lee was almost sorry when the Limited rolled
+into Albuquerque, and Mr. Bowles was fairly tearful in his adieus.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Miss Lee," he said, holding her hand with just a shade more
+than the proper pressure, "really, I shall never forget your kindness.
+The days have passed like a dream and I feel myself quite a Westerner
+already. Yes, I am sure I shall love the West&mdash;it is so big, and
+free&mdash;but what I like about it most is its splendid spirit of equality,
+its camaraderie. I can feel it everywhere&mdash;it is in the air&mdash;these
+great, rough-looking men, greeting perfect strangers in the smokers and
+on the platforms and saying: 'Say, pardner, gimme a match'&mdash;or a smoke,
+even! Oh, it is glorious! I&mdash;but, really, I must be going! So sorry our
+ways should part here. Well, good-by, Miss Lee&mdash;so glad we should happen
+to meet. I hope you have a pleasant journey. Thank you! Oh, don't
+mention it&mdash;good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>He raised his Dutch comedian hat once more, a trace of romantic
+mistiness came into his violet eyes, and then he hurried back to his
+luxurious quarters on the Limited while Dixie May sat and waited for the
+southbound to take her to Deming. It was not a cheerful journey to
+contemplate, for New Mexico and Arizona way trains are slow and dusty,
+and given to making poor connections and unseemly arrivals; but by ten
+o'clock that evening Dixie Lee hoped to get as far as Deming and then,
+if the Overland happened to be late too, she could catch a westbound
+passenger and get to Chula Vista before the hotel closed. The Western
+Limited pulled out as her train still stood on its track and she glanced
+at the rear-end of the observation car for a fluttering handkerchief;
+but Mr. Bowles' emotions seemed to have overcome him, for he was lacking
+in this last attention. She watched for him with a broad grin; then,
+when she was sure he was really gone, Dixie May threw herself back in
+her seat and laughed until she was silly.</p>
+
+<p>She was in good humor all the way to Deming, where the westbound was
+reported two hours late; but as she was pacing up and down the platform
+at midnight her face came suddenly straight. The westbound was standing
+on the track waiting for orders and she was walking along up toward the
+front when suddenly, through the smoking-car window, she beheld Sir
+Knight Bowles in eager converse with a grizzled old-timer! If it wasn't
+he, it was his twin brother&mdash;for there was the hard-boiled hat as large
+as life. The window was a little murky and the air was thick inside, but
+Dixie May was sure she had seen him&mdash;or was she having dreams?</p>
+
+<p>It seemed, somehow, as if she couldn't get that droll creature out of
+her mind. All the way down from Albuquerque she had been hearing his
+talk in her ears and laughing at the way he broadened his "a's" and
+purred and purled over his "r's." At times she had burst into
+inextinguishable laughter, insomuch that several of the male passengers
+had regarded her with curious glances and the train boy had tried to get
+gay with her; but Dixie Lee knew how to settle that kind of folks. A
+peanut butcher was a peanut butcher to her, and nothing more; and if he
+neglected to hawk his wares in order to drape himself over the back of
+her seat she could put him in his place. It was Mr. Bowles that she was
+thinking of&mdash;<i>Mr.</i> Bowles&mdash;and when she remembered the innocent look on
+his face as she filled him up with Indian atrocities and cattle-war
+stories she just simply had to laugh. But now to find him following
+her&mdash;to discover him on the same train when he was ticketed west out of
+Albuquerque&mdash;well, that was a different thing entirely!</p>
+
+<p>Dixie Lee retired to the sleeper to snatch a few hours of repose and
+when the dead-eyed porter set her down at Chula Vista she had entirely
+forgotten her knight. It was five o'clock on a cold March morning and
+the wind came in from across the prairie with a sweep that chilled the
+blood. It was so cold that the ticket-agent had ducked back into his
+inner sanctum before she could so much as hail him&mdash;and it was a quarter
+of a mile up to the hotel! Dixie May took a long look about her; she
+tried the waiting-room door; then, with a deep-drawn shudder, she turned
+to go it alone, when lo, a tall and masculine figure stepped out from
+behind the warehouse and she recognized Mr. Bowles!</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, madam," he said, doffing his comedian hat and addressing her
+as if she were a stranger; "I see you are all alone&mdash;can I be of any
+service to you?"</p>
+
+<p>It was dark, all right, but the idea of Mr. Bowles expecting to conceal
+his identity by mere starlight! She knew him, of course, the minute she
+saw his hat, but&mdash;well, what was the use of getting haughty about it?
+Why not do a little play-acting, too, until they got up to the hotel?</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why, yes," she faltered, simulating an appealing weakness. "It's
+very kind of you, I'm sure. I&mdash;I expected my father to meet me here,
+but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes&mdash;very unfortunate," put in Bowles promptly. "Is there any hotel
+near? Just lead the way then, and I'll follow with your luggage. You
+might put on my overcoat if you're suffering from the cold. Rather not?
+Very well, then; let's hurry along to the hotel."</p>
+
+<p>They hurried, Bowles struggling with the baggage, of which he had three
+pieces, and Dixie Lee preparing her valedictory. Yes, much as she
+regretted it, she would have to bid him farewell&mdash;otherwise he might
+come tagging after her out to the ranch and set the whole country to
+talking. It was all very well back in New York, or on the train, but in
+the Tortugas&mdash;never! She would have to make her final effort cutting,
+but she hoped he would not take it too hard&mdash;and meanwhile, as a penance
+for his presumption, he could break his back packing her suitcases up
+from the station.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, just a moment!" entreated Mr. Bowles, setting down the suitcases
+and working his tortured hands. "Oh, no, not heavy at all&mdash;perhaps I can
+fasten them together with this strap."</p>
+
+<p>He unbuckled the shoulder-strap from his alligator-skin bag and looped
+it through the handles of the suitcases.</p>
+
+<p>"Hah! Just the thing!" he exclaimed, slinging the two suitcases over his
+shoulder; and then, with a long, free stride, he swung along beside her,
+as tireless as an Indian&mdash;and as silent.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden sense of respect, almost of awe, came over Dixie Lee as she
+contemplated his masterful repose, but the hotel door was near and she
+nerved herself for the assault.</p>
+
+<p>"You think you're smart, don't you?" she snapped. "Following along after
+me this way! Just because I happened to be a little friendly&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, really, Miss Lee," broke in Bowles with admirable calm, "I hope
+you will not be too hard on me. I assure you, if it had not been for
+your distressing situation&mdash;which no gentleman could overlook&mdash;you would
+never have been aware of my presence. But you have known me long enough,
+I am sure, to know that I would never presume to force my society upon
+any lady, more particularly upon one for whom&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what are you tagging along for then?" demanded Dixie Lee
+wrathfully. "When I said good-by to you up at Albuquerque you had a
+through ticket to California. Now here you are down at Chula Vista. What
+are you up to&mdash;that's what I want to know!"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure!" agreed Mr. Bowles. "Under the circumstances, you have a
+perfect right to an explanation. I may as well confess then, Miss Lee,
+that your stories told on the train have fired me with a desire to see
+the real West, not the pseudo or imitation article, but the real thing
+with the hair on, as you so aptly phrased it. But here was my
+difficulty&mdash;I had no one to direct me. The hotel-keepers, the
+ticket-agents, even my Eastern friends in the West, might send me astray
+and I be none the wiser. I admit it was hardly a gentlemanly thing to
+do, but rather than lose my last chance to see the great West of which
+you spoke I followed after you; but without the slightest intention, I
+assure you, of making myself obnoxious. Is this the hotel ahead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Dixie Lee, "it is. And while I wish to congratulate you upon
+your explanation I want to inform you, Mr. Bowles, that right here is
+where we part. You're looking for the Wild West, and here she is with
+her hair down. If you are hunting experiences these Chula Vista boys
+will certainly accommodate you; but from this time on, Mr. Bowles, we
+are strangers. We don't know each other, do you understand? If what you
+say is true, you followed me simply to find the Far West. This is it.
+We're quits, then; and I shall have to ask you, as a gentleman, not to
+annoy me further. You may be all right&mdash;back in New York&mdash;but out here
+it's different and I don't want to have the folks joshing me about you.
+So I'll bid you farewell, Mr. Bowles, and thank you kindly for carrying
+up my baggage&mdash;but don't you dare come around the Bat Wing Ranch, or
+I'll tell the boys to kill you!"</p>
+
+<p>She grabbed up her baggage as she spoke and hurried ahead, and when Mr.
+Bowles stepped into the hotel some minutes later she was as distant as
+an ivory goddess. Or a bronze goddess, to be exact, for the sun and wind
+had caressed the fair cheeks of Dixie May until they were as brown and
+ruddy as a berry, and even the steam heat of a New York apartment could
+only reduce their coloring. She seemed a goddess indeed to Bowles as she
+lingered beside the stove, her smooth, capable hands bared to the glow
+of the flames, and her body buoyant with the grace of youth; but the
+laughing brown eyes which had become the mirrors of his life were turned
+away now and all the world was changed.</p>
+
+<p>The bottle-nosed proprietor came shuffling in from the bar and silently
+handed him a pen; then, without looking at the name that was signed, he
+wrote a number after it and handed his guest a key.</p>
+
+<p>"Baggage?" he inquired as Mr. Bowles stood helplessly to one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" said Bowles, recovering himself with an effort. "Here are the
+checks. My trunks will be in on a later train. Have them sent up, won't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sample room?" queried the hotel-keeper brusquely.</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>"D'ye want 'em put in the sample room?" snarled the proprietor, outraged
+at having to bandy words with the despised Easterner.</p>
+
+<p>"The sample room?" repeated Mr. Bowles, now thoroughly mystified. "Why,
+no&mdash;why should I?"</p>
+
+<p>At this final evidence of imbecility a mighty spasm of rage came over
+the proprietor, and as he struggled to regain his calm Dixie Lee
+suddenly clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and made a dash for the
+dining-room. The paroxysm passed and with an air of wearied indulgence
+the proprietor explained and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" he grumbled. "Guess you know your own business. Thought you
+was a travelin' man."</p>
+
+<p>He stepped back through the door marked "Bar" and Mr. Bowles was left to
+gasp alone. A traveling man! They took him for a traveling man! It was
+quite a shock, and Bowles was still brooding over it by the stove when
+the door from the bar was thrust open and a tall cowboy, booted and
+spurred and shapped and pistoled, came stalking into the room. His broad
+sombrero was shoved far back on his head, showing a tremendous stand of
+tumbled hair, and his keen hazel eyes roved about with the steady
+intentness of a hunting animal's; but only for the fraction of a second
+did he condescend to notice Bowles. He swayed a little as he walked and
+the aroma of whisky came with him, but otherwise he seemed perfectly
+sober.</p>
+
+<p>"Say!" he called, turning and kicking the bar door open again, "did Dix
+come in on that train? She did? Well, here's where I git hell&mdash;I was
+supposed to go down and meet 'er!"</p>
+
+<p>He came over and stood by the stove, apparently oblivious of the man
+before him, and while he waited he cursed himself in a cynical,
+impersonal sort of way that made a great impression on Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, where is she?" he demanded, as the proprietor hurried in behind
+him. "I ain't had a wink of sleep, but we'll have to hit the road
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"Dixie's in getting a cup of coffee," answered the proprietor. "Better
+have a seltzer first," he wheedled, taking him by the arm and drawing
+him toward the barroom.</p>
+
+<p>"You're dead right there too, old sport!" responded the cowboy heartily.
+"My head is as big as a balloon, and them grays will shore drag me over
+the dashboard if I don't kill some of this whisky."</p>
+
+<p>He tottered out as he spoke and Mr. Bowles half rose from his chair.
+Dixie Lee was in danger; she was in imminent peril of death! He must
+warn her&mdash;he must help her&mdash;he must try to save her life! He was in a
+fever of excitement when the dining-room door finally swept open and
+Dixie May entered the room; but she was calm, very calm, and something
+about her bade him hold his hand. Then the barroom door swung in again
+and the cowboy appeared, walking head up with a masterful stride&mdash;and a
+look in his eyes that Bowles knew all too well.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, hello, Dix!" he cried, hurrying over and striking hands with her.
+"Well, well, how're you comin'? What, don't I draw nothin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you don't!" responded Dixie Lee, stepping back as he impudently
+offered to kiss her. "Not unless it's a good slap for not meeting me
+down at the train! How's Maw and Paw and all the boys? Have you gentled
+that colt for me yet?"</p>
+
+<p>And so, with many laughing sallies, they passed out into the cold dawn,
+leaving Bowles to sit by the fire and stare. But in her last glance he
+had read a challenge, and he did not let it pass.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BAT WING RANCH</h3>
+
+
+<p>A week passed by while Mr. Bowles prepared for his great emprise, and
+then one evening as the sun set behind the purple peaks of the Tortugas
+and lighted up the white walls of the big house on the hill a stranger
+might have been seen riding up toward the Bat Wing gate. In fact, he was
+seen, and the round-up cook, who was washing supper dishes at the rear
+of the chuck-wagon, delivered himself of a heartfelt curse.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Gus?" inquired a lounging cowboy who was hovering
+over the fire. "Drop yore dishrag?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; and I don't need to around this ranch!" commented Gus with bitter
+emphasis. "It's a common remark or sayin' that when you drop yore
+dishrag it means a visitor is comin'&mdash;or, as some say, it means bad
+luck. Now jest look at that ornery feller comin' up the road! Can't let
+his hawse out none&mdash;can't whip up a little and git in by
+supper-time&mdash;has to come draggin' in jest as I'm finishin' my work!"</p>
+
+<p>The cowboy raised himself up slowly from crouching on his heels and
+regarded the stranger intently.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, who is that?" he said at last. "Looks like he was ridin' that
+little bald-faced sorrel that Lon Morrell traded to Jim Scrimsher last
+summer. Yes, sir, it's the very same hawse&mdash;that's somebody from down
+Chula Vista way!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't care where he comes from," grumbled the cook, "as long as
+he comes a-runnin'! I sure will be one happy man when the wagon gits
+away from this ranch and I git shut of these no-'count, worthless
+chuck-riders. Well, biscuits and coffee is all he gits now, I don't care
+if he's a cattle-buyer!"</p>
+
+<p>He wiped his hands carefully on a clean towel he kept hid for that
+purpose, pulled out his long gray mustaches and regarded the stranger
+with a baleful stare.</p>
+
+<p>"Hoo!" he sneered. "Look at them shaps, will you? Ain't them the fancy
+pants though! Right new, too&mdash;and git on to that great big six-shooter!
+Must be a forest ranger!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said the cowboy as the stranger dropped off at the gate. "He
+might hear ye!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't give a rip if he did!" snorted Gus, to whom Uncle Sam's gay young
+forest-savers were intimately associated with an extra plate; and,
+grumbling and slamming down dishes, he returned to his manifold duties.</p>
+
+<p>But the stranger was evidently not a common chuck-rider; in fact, so
+gloriously was he appareled that the moment his rigging became apparent
+the idling cowboy made a swift sneak to the bunk-house, where the boys
+were wrangling over a pitch game, and turned in a general alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Come out, fellers," he whispered hoarsely, "and see the new tenderfoot!
+Hurry up, he's goin' over to the big house! Say, he's a forest ranger
+all right!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothin' of the kind!" asserted a burly cow-puncher, thrusting his head
+out the door. "Movin' picture cowboy, I'll bet a hat!"</p>
+
+<p>The stranger remounted gracefully as they gazed out at him; then he
+touched his jaded sorrel with the spur and trotted over to the big house
+gate&mdash;and as he trotted he rose rhythmically in his stirrups, while all
+cowboy-land stood aghast!</p>
+
+<p>"English!" they gasped in a chorus, and burst into fervid curses as they
+stared at the uncouth sight. A grown man, a white man, and hopping up
+and down like that! Holy, jumping Jerusalem! They beat each other on the
+back in an agony of despair&mdash;and yet it was no more than Mr. Bowles,
+dropping back into his old Central Park habits. To be sure, the man who
+coached him at Chula Vista had warned him against it repeatedly, but the
+customs of a lifetime are not wiped out in a minute, and to that extent
+Mr. Bowles was still an Easterner.</p>
+
+<p>The big white house in which Henry Lee made his home was a landmark in
+southeast Arizona. Some people merely referred to it as "The White
+House," and though it was forty miles from the railroad it was as well
+known in its way as the abiding place of Presidents in Washington. The
+White House was a big, square, adobe building, set boldly on the top of
+a low hill and surrounded by a broad wooden gallery, from behind whose
+clambering honeysuckles and gnarled rose-bushes Mrs. Lee and Dixie May
+looked down upon the envious world below. To be invited up to the big
+house, to sit on the flower-scented porch and listen to the soft voices
+of the women&mdash;that was a dream to which every cow-puncher's heart
+aspired, although in the realization many a bold, adventurous man lost
+face and weakened. But to Bowles the big house was the natural place to
+go, and he unlatched the gate and mounted to the gallery without a
+tremor.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the edge of the porch, smoking his pipe and gazing out over his
+domain, sat Henry Lee, the pioneer cattleman of the Tortugas Valley, and
+a man who had fought Indians to get his start. He was a great man&mdash;old
+Henry Lee&mdash;but to Bowles chiefly distinguished by being the father of
+Dixie May.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, good-evening!" he began, bringing his heels together and bowing.
+"Are you Mr. Lee?"</p>
+
+<p>The cattleman looked at him a moment with a calm, appraising eye. He was
+a small, rather slight man, but square-shouldered and far from
+decrepit&mdash;also, he had seen the procession go by for quite a while, and
+he could judge most men by their faces.</p>
+
+<p>"That's my name," he said, rising quietly from his place. "What can I do
+for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Bowles," said that gentleman, following the procedure he
+thought most fitting in one seeking employment. "Mr. Scrimsher, of Chula
+Vista, has referred me to you in regard to a position as cowboy. I
+should like very much to get such a place."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, Mr. Bowles," answered Mr. Lee, knocking the ashes out of his
+pipe, "but I'm not taking on any hands at present."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed!" murmured the would-be cowboy, not at all dismayed.
+"Perhaps there will be an opening for me later?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I'm afraid not. I generally take on about the same boys every year,
+or men that know the country, and there won't be any place for you."</p>
+
+<p>There was something very final about the way that this was said, and
+Bowles paused to meditate.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn your horse into the pasture and git some supper at the wagon,"
+added the old man, with a friendly gesture; but supper was not what
+Bowles had come for. He had come to get a job where he could be near the
+queen of his heart, and perhaps win her by some deed of prowess and
+daring. So he ignored this tacit dismissal and returned again to the
+charge.</p>
+
+<p>"I can readily understand, Mr. Lee," he began, "why you hesitate to
+employ a stranger, and especially a man who has newly come from the
+East, but if you would give me a trial for a few days I am sure you
+would find me a very willing worker. I have come out here in order to
+learn the cattle business, and the compensation is of no importance to
+me at first; in fact, I should be glad to work without pay until you
+found my services of value. Perhaps now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope," interposed the cattleman, shaking his head regretfully. "I've
+tried that before, and it don't work. Cow-punching is a business by
+itself, and it can't be learned in a minute; in fact, a good puncher is
+the scarcest thing on the range, and I either pay the top price or I
+don't take a man on at all. I can't stop to monkey with green hands."</p>
+
+<p>Now, this was pretty direct, and it was calculated to put the ordinary
+tenderfoot in his place; but Mr. Bowles came from a self-selected class
+of people who are accustomed to having their own way, and he would not
+acknowledge himself beaten.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, really, Mr. Lee," he protested, "I don't think you are quite fair
+to me in this. As I understand it, your round-up is just beginning, and
+I am sure I could be of some service&mdash;for a few days, at least."</p>
+
+<p>The old man glanced at his fancy new outfit, and thought he saw another
+way out.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you ride?" he inquired, asking that first fatal question before
+which so many punchers go down.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," answered Bowles politely.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you can ride a gentle horse," corrected Lee. "I've got some
+pretty wild ones in my bunch, and of course a new hand couldn't expect
+to get the best. Can you rope?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I mean any horse," retorted Bowles, avoiding the subject of roping.
+"Any horse you have."</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm!" observed Mr. Lee, laying down his pipe and regarding his man with
+interest. "Did you ever ride any bad horses?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," lied Bowles; "several of them."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think you can ride any horse I've got, eh?" mused Lee. "Well,
+I'll tell you, Mr. Bowles," he continued, speaking very deliberately;
+"I've got a horse in my remuda that killed a man last fall&mdash;if you'll
+ride him I'll take you on for a puncher."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, sir," responded Bowles. "And thank you very much. It's very
+kind of you, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to go but the cattleman stopped him in his second stride. His
+bluff had been called, for it would never do to go to a show-down&mdash;not
+unless he wanted a man's blood on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Here! Wait a minute!" he cried impatiently. "I don't want to get you
+killed, so what's the use of talking? The only way for you to get to be
+a cow-puncher is to work up to it, the way everybody does. I'll give you
+a job as flunky at twenty a month and found, and if you make good I'll
+put you on for horse wrangler. How does that strike you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;what are the duties of a flunky?" inquired Bowles, cautiously and
+without enthusiasm. "You know, I'm quite content with your first
+proposal."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely," answered Mr. Lee dryly. "But wait till you see the horse.
+All a flunky has to do is to help the cook, wash the dishes, drag up a
+little wood, and drive the bed-wagon."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very kind of you, I'm sure," murmured Mr. Bowles; "but I think I
+prefer the other."</p>
+
+<p>"The other what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the other position&mdash;the job of cow-puncher."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think I'll let you ride that horse, do you?" demanded Mr. Lee
+sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;so I understood you."</p>
+
+<p>The old cattleman snorted and muttered to himself. He had talked too
+much and that was all there was to it. Now he would have to make some
+concessions to pay for it.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, young man," he said, rising and tapping him on the
+shoulder. "The horse that killed Dunbar is the worst man-eater in the
+country&mdash;I ought to have shot the brute long ago&mdash;and if you try to ride
+him he'll throw you before you git your stirrup. More'n that, he'll kick
+you before you hit the ground, and jump on you before you bounce. My
+twister, Hardy Atkins, won't go near 'im, and he's one of the best
+riders in Arizona; so what's the use of talking about it? Now, you're a
+stranger here, and I'll make an exception of you&mdash;how about that flunky
+job?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;really&mdash;&mdash;" Mr. Bowles hesitated a moment. "Perhaps it's only in
+the name, but I'd rather not accept such a menial position. Of course,
+it's very kind of you to offer me the alternative, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, here!" cried the cattleman fiercely. "I'll make you assistant
+horse wrangler, at thirty dollars a month, and if you don't accept I'll
+tell Hardy to catch up the old man-killer and put you in the hospital! I
+was a fool to talk to you the way I did; but don't you crowd me too far,
+young man, or you'll find Henry Lee a man of his word! Now, will you
+wrangle horses, or will we have to ship you East?"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles stared at him for a moment, and then he drew himself up proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"If the choice lies between a menial position&mdash;&mdash;" he began; and old
+Henry brought his teeth together with a click.</p>
+
+<p>"You poor, dam', ignorant tenderfoot!" he raved. "You don't know when
+you're being treated white! You ain't worth a cent to me, sir&mdash;no, not a
+cent! And now I'm going to learn you something! I'll ask my twister to
+put the saddle on old Dunbar in the morning, and you'll have to ride
+him, sir, or own yourself a coward!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, sir," answered Bowles, with military stiffness. "Very well!
+I will see you in the morning, then."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed and strode off down the path, his new shaps flapping
+ponderously as he walked; and the old cattleman brushed his eyes to
+drive the mad thought away.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>BRIGHAM</h3>
+
+
+<p>If his strategic victory over Henry Lee had given Bowles, the pseudo
+cowboy, any swelled-up ideas about taking the Bat Wing outfit by storm,
+he was promptly undeceived when he went up against Gloomy Gus, the cook.
+Gus had set the sour dough for men old enough to be Mr. Bowles'
+grandfather; men who were, so he averred, the superiors of any punchers
+now living and conspicuously prompt at their meals. In striking contrast
+to these great souls, Bowles had lingered entirely too long up at the
+big house; and when, after tying up his horse and feeding him some of
+Mr. Lee's long-treasured hay, he came dragging up to the chuck-wagon,
+the hour of grace had passed. Gloomy Gus was reclining beside his fire
+in converse with a red-headed cowboy, and neither of them looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, pardon me," began Mr. Bowles, with perhaps a trace of condescension
+in his voice; "can you tell me where I will find the cook?"</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed cowboy sat like a graven image, with his eyes fixed on
+the fire, and finally the cook replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find him right here, Mister," he said, "from four o'clock in the
+mornin' till sundown&mdash;and then, by grab, he quits!"</p>
+
+<p>The injured emphasis with which this last was enunciated left no doubt
+as to the identity of the speaker, and Bowles murmured polite regrets;
+but, coming as he did from a land where cooks are not kings, he
+continued with the matter in hand.</p>
+
+<p>"So sorry," he purled, "if I am a little late; but Mr. Lee told me to
+come down here and ask you to give me some dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" grunted the cook. "Did you hear that, Brigham?"</p>
+
+<p>The cowboy nodded gravely and squinched his humorous eyes at the fire.
+He was a burly young man, dressed for business in overalls and jumper,
+but sporting a big black hat and a fine pair of alligator-topped boots;
+and from the way his fat cheeks wrinkled up it was evident he was
+expecting some fun.</p>
+
+<p>The cook regarded Bowles for a minute with evident disapproval; then he
+raised himself on one elbow and delivered his ultimatum.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Man," he rasped, making his manner as offensive as possible,
+"you go back and tell Mr. Lee that I won't give you no dinner. Savvy? Ef
+you'd come round when you first rode in I might've throwed you out
+somethin', but now you can rustle yore own grub."</p>
+
+<p>At these revolutionary remarks, Mr. Bowles started, and for a moment he
+almost forgot his breeding; then he withdrew into himself, and let the
+gaucherie pass with the contempt which it deserved. But it is hard to be
+dignified when you are hungry, and after several minutes of silence he
+addressed himself to the cowboy.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," he said, "but is there any other place nearby where I could
+buy a little food?"</p>
+
+<p>"W'y, no, stranger," returned the cowboy amiably; "I don't reckon there
+is. Why don't you pick up a little around here? They's some coffee in
+that pot."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded toward a large black coffee-pot that stood simmering by the
+fire, and Bowles cast a questioning glance at the cook.</p>
+
+<p>"Hop to it!" exclaimed that dignitary, not a little awed by the
+stranger's proud reserve. "They's some bread in that can up there."</p>
+
+<p>But still Bowles was helpless.</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;where do you eat?" he inquired, looking about for some sign of a
+table, or even of a plate and cup.</p>
+
+<p>"Anywhere!" answered the cook, with a large motion of the hand. Then, as
+his guest still stood staring, he wearily rose to his feet. Without a
+word, he reached down into a greasy box and grabbed out a tin plate and
+cup; from another compartment he fished forth a knife, fork and spoon;
+with a pot-hook he lifted the cover of an immense Dutch oven, thumped an
+oil-can half-full of cooked beans, and slopped a little coffee out of
+the pot. Then he let down the hinged door to his chuck-box, spread a
+clean white flour sack on it, laid out the dishes with elaborate
+solicitude, and slumped down again by the fire. Nothing said&mdash;and the
+cowboy sat nerveless in his place&mdash;but Mr. Bowles felt rebuked. He was a
+tenderfoot&mdash;an Easterner masquerading as a cowboy&mdash;and every movement of
+the sardonic pot-tender was calculated to rub it in and leave him, as it
+did, in a welter of rage and shame.</p>
+
+<p>From the oil-can be dipped out some beans; he poured coffee and ate in
+silence, not daring to ask for butter or sugar lest he should still
+further reveal his ignorance; and when he had finished his meal he
+slipped away and went out to look at his horse. A piano was tinkling up
+at the big house, and the stars were very bright, but neither stars nor
+music could soothe his wounds, and at last he went back to the fire. The
+cook was gone now, and the cowboy also; the big noise was in the long,
+low building from which so many heads had appeared when he rode in from
+Chula Vista. He paused at the doorway, and listened; then, bracing
+himself for the hazing which was his due, he knocked.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" yelled a raucous voice in an aside to the general uproar.
+"Come in here&mdash;&mdash;No, by thunder, you played a seven! Well, where is it,
+then? Show me, pardner; I'm from Missou'. If you played the jack, where
+is it?"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles pushed open the door, that scraped and sagged as he shoved it,
+and stepped into a room that was exactly posed for one of those
+old-fashioned pictures labeled "Evil Associates; or The First Step
+Toward Destruction." At a long table, upon which burned a smoky lamp, a
+group of roughly dressed men were wrangling over a game of cards, while
+other evil-doers looked over their shoulders and added to the general
+blasphemy. A growth of beard, ranging anywhere from three days' to a
+week's, served to give them all a ferocious, cave-dweller appearance;
+and so intent were they on their quarrel that not a man looked up. If
+Bowles had expected to be the center of the stage, it was from an
+exaggerated sense of his own importance, for so lightly was he held that
+no one so much as glanced at him&mdash;with the single exception of the
+red-headed cowboy, who was playing a mouth-organ in the corner&mdash;until
+the missing jack was produced.</p>
+
+<p>A wooden bunk, built against the wall, was weighed down with a sprawling
+mass of long-limbed men; on the floor the canvas-covered beds of the
+cowboys were either thrown flat or still doubled up in rolls; and the
+only other furniture in sight was the two benches by the table and a hot
+stove that did yeoman service as a cuspidor. The air was thick with the
+smoke of cigarettes, and those who did not happen to be smoking were
+chewing plug tobacco, but the thing which struck Bowles as most
+remarkable was the accuracy with which they expectorated. A half oil-can
+filled with ashes served as a mark on the farther side; and the big,
+bull-voiced puncher who had so casually bid him come in was spitting
+through a distant knot-hole, which was rapidly becoming the center of a
+"Texas Flag."</p>
+
+<p>Really, it was astounding to Bowles, even after all he had read and seen
+enacted on the films, to observe the rude abandon of these Western
+characters, and particularly in their speech. Somehow the Western tales
+he had read had entirely failed to catch the startling imagery of their
+vernacular&mdash;or perhaps the editors had cut it out. The well-known
+tendency toward personal violence, however, was ever present, and as
+Bowles made bold to overlook the game a controversy sprang up which
+threatened to result in bloodshed.</p>
+
+<p>The bull-voiced man&mdash;a burly, hook-nosed Texan, who answered to the name
+of Buck&mdash;was playing partners with a tall, slim, quiet-spoken puncher
+who centered all his thoughts on the cards; and against them were ranged
+a good-natured youth called Happy Jack and the presumptuous cowboy who
+had offered to kiss Dixie Lee. The game was fast, proceeding by signs
+and grunts and mysterious knocks on the table, and as it neared its
+close and each man threw down his cards with a greater vehemence, Happy
+Jack flipped out three final cards and made a grab for the matches. But
+this did not suit the ideas of the bull moose and his partner, and they
+rose from their seats with a roar.</p>
+
+<p>"What you claim?" demanded Buck, laying a firm hand on the stakes.</p>
+
+<p>"High, low, and the game!" answered Happy Jack wrathfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't got no game," put in the quiet puncher. "Why don't you play
+yore hand out instead of makin' a grab?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here now!" spoke up Dixie Lee's miscreant friend, leaning half-way
+across the table. "You-all quit jumpin' on Happy or I'll bust you on the
+<i>cabezon</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will!" sneered Buck, shoving his big head closer, as if to
+dare the blow. "You don't look bad to me, Hardy Atkins, and never did;
+and don't you never think for a moment that you can run it over me and
+Bill, because you cain't! Now you better pull in that ornery face of
+yourn while it's all together&mdash;and we're goin' to count them cards, by
+this-and-that, if it's the last act!"</p>
+
+<p>So they raged and wrangled, apparently on the very verge of a personal
+conflict; but as the play wore on Bowles became increasingly aware of a
+contemptuous twinkle that dwelt in the eyes of the man called Hardy
+Atkins. Then it came over him suddenly that other eyes were upon him;
+and instantly the typical Western scene was wrecked, and he saw himself
+made the fool. No burst of ruffianly laughter gave point to the
+well-planned jest&mdash;it passed over as subtly as a crisis in high
+society&mdash;but as he turned away from the game Bowles found himself in
+possession of a man-sized passion. Back where he came from an open,
+personal hatred was considered a little <i>outré</i>; but the spirit of the
+wilds had touched him already, and Hardy Atkins, the green-eyed,
+familiar friend of Dixie Lee, was the man that he hoped would choke.</p>
+
+<p>As interest in the pitch game languished and a scuffle made the bunk
+untenable, stray cowboys began to drift outside again, some to seek out
+their beds beneath the wagon-sheds and others to foregather about the
+fire. First among these was the red-headed man called Brigham; and when
+Bowles, after sitting solitary for a while, followed after them, he
+found Brigham the center of attraction. Perched upon an upturned box,
+and with one freckled hand held out to keep the firelight from his eyes,
+he was holding forth with a long story which had everybody listening.</p>
+
+<p>"And I says to this circus feller," he was saying, "'Well, I ain't never
+done no bareback work, but if you cain't git no one else to jump through
+them hoops I'll guarantee to take the pretty outer <i>one</i> of 'em. But you
+be mighty p'ticular to pop that whip of yourn, pardner,' I says to the
+ring-master, 'or that ol' rockin'-hawse will git away from me.'"</p>
+
+<p>He cocked one eye up to see if Bowles was listening, and then indulged
+in a reminiscent chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I climbed up on that ol' rockin'-hawse&mdash;I was dressed like a
+clown, of course&mdash;and after the regular people had gone round the ring I
+come rackin' along out of the side-tent, a-bowin' to all the ladies and
+whistlin' to all the dogs, until you'd think I was goin' to do wonders.
+But all the kids was on, and they begin to laugh and throw peanuts,
+because they knowed the clown was bound to git busted&mdash;that's what the
+rascal is paid fer. Well, we went canterin' around the ring, me and that
+old white hawse that had been doin' it for fifteen years, and every time
+we come to a hoop I'd make my jump&mdash;the ring-master would pop his
+whip&mdash;and when I come squanderin' out the other side the old hawse would
+be right there to ketch me. Trick he had&mdash;he'd slow down and kinder wait
+fer me&mdash;but that dogged ring-master put up a job on me&mdash;he shore did;
+but the scoundrel tried to lie out of it afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, them people that come out to Coney they expect somethin' fer
+their money, and bein' as I was only the fill-in man and the other
+feller was comin' back anyway, the management decided to ditch me. So
+when I made a jump at my last hoop the ring-master forgot to pop his
+whip&mdash;or so he said&mdash;and I come down on my head and like to killed me.
+Well, sir, the way them people hollered you'd think the king had come,
+an' when a couple of fool clowns come runnin' out and carried me off on
+a shutter they laughed till they was pretty nigh sick. That's the way it
+is at Coney Island&mdash;unless somebody is gittin' killed, them tight-wads
+won't spend a cent."</p>
+
+<p>The red-headed raconteur laughed a little to himself, and, seeing his
+audience still attentive, he launched out into another.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir!" he began. "That's a great place&mdash;old Coney. You boys that's
+never been off the range don't know what it is you've missed. There's
+side shows, and circuses, and shoot-the-chutes, and whirley-go-rounds,
+and Egyptian seeresses, and hot-dog joints, and&mdash;well, say, speakin' of
+hot-dog reminds me of the time I took the job of spieler fer Go-Go, the
+dog-faced boy. This here Go-Go was a yaller nigger that they had rigged
+up like a cannibal and put in a big box along with a lot of dehorned
+rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and sech. It was my job to stand up over
+the box, while the ballyhoo man outside was pullin' 'em in, and pop a
+whip over this snake-eatin' cannibal, and let on like he was tryin' to
+escape. I had a little old pistol that I'd shoot off, and then Go-Go
+would rattle his chain and yell '<i>Owww-wah!</i>' like he was sure eatin'
+'em alive.</p>
+
+<p>"That was the barker's cue, and he'd holler out: 'Listen to the wild
+thing! He howls, and howls, and howls! Go-Go, the wild boy, the
+snake-eatin' Igorotte from the Philippines! Step right in, ladies and
+gentlemen! The price is ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a
+dollar&mdash;&mdash;' and all that kind of stuff, until the place was filled up.
+Then it was my turn to spiel, and I'd git up on the box, with a
+blacksnake in one hand and that little old pistol in the other, and say:</p>
+
+<p>"'La-adies and gentle-men, before our performance begins I wish to say a
+few words relatin' to Echigogo Cabagan, the wild boy of Luzon. This
+strange creature was captured by Lieutenant Crawford, of the
+Seventy-ninth Heavy Artillery, in the wilds of the Igorotte country in
+the Philippines. At the time of his recovery he was livin' in the
+tropical jungles, never havin' seen a human face, an' subsistin'
+entirely upon poisonous reptyles, which was his only pets and
+companions. So frequently was he bit by these venomous reptyles that
+Professor Swope, of the Philadelphia Academy, after a careful analysis
+of his blood, figgers out that it contains seven fluid ounces of the
+deadly poison, or enough to kill a thousand men.</p>
+
+<p>"'On account of the requests of the humane society, the mayor, and
+several prominent ladies now present in the audience, we will do our
+best to prevent Go-Go from eatin' his snakes alive but&mdash;&mdash;' and right
+there was the nigger's cue to come in.</p>
+
+<p>"'<i>Oww-wah!</i>' he'd yell, shakin' his chain and tearin' around in his
+box, '<i>Ow-woo-wah</i>!' And then he'd grab up them pore, sufferin'
+rattlesnakes and sech, and quile 'em around his neck, and snap his teeth
+like he was bitin' heads off&mdash;and me, I'd pop my whip and shoot off my
+pistol, and scare them fool people most to death.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that was the kind of an outfit it was, and one day when the
+nigger was quieted down between acts and playin' with a rag-doll we had
+give him in order to make him look simple-minded-like, a big, buck Injun
+from the Wild West Show come in with the bunch and looked at Go-Go
+kinder scary-like. You know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A noise of scuffling feet made the story-teller pause, and then the gang
+of card players came tumbling out of the bunk-house.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's roast some ribs," said one.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I want some bread and lick," answered another.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with aigs?" broke in a third.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, you fellers shut up, will you?" shouted a man by the fire. "Old
+Brig's tellin' us a story!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, git 'im a chin-strap," retorted the bull-voiced Buck. "I want some
+ribs!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, keep still, can't ye?" appealed the anxious listener; but silence
+was not on the cards. The chuck-box was broken open and ransacked for a
+butcher-knife; then as Buck went off to trim away the ribs of the cook's
+beef, Hardy Atkins and his friends made merry with the quiet company.</p>
+
+<p>"Ridin' 'em again, are you, Brigham?" inquired Happy Jack with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he's divin' off'n that hundred-foot pole!" observed Poker-faced
+Bill sardonically.</p>
+
+<p>"And never been outside the Territory!" commented Hardy Atkins <i>sotto
+voce</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Something about this last remark seemed to touch the loquacious Brigham,
+for he answered it with spirit:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's more than some folks can say," he retorted. "I sure never
+run no hawse race with the sheriff out of Texas!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you pore, ignorant Jack Mormon," jeered Atkins; "and you never rode
+no circus hawse at Coney Island, neither. I've seen fellers that knowed
+yore kinfolks down on the river, and they swore to Gawd you never been
+outside of Arizona. More'n that, they said you was a worser liar than
+old Tom Pepper&mdash;and he got kicked out of hell fer lyin'."</p>
+
+<p>A guffaw greeted this allusion to the fate of poor old Tom; but Brigham
+was not to be downed by comparisons.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he drawled; "I heerd about Tom Pepper. I heerd say he was a
+Texican, and the only right smart one they was; and the people down
+there was so dog ignorant, everything he told 'em they thought it was a
+lie. Built up quite a reputation that way&mdash;like me, here. Seems like
+every time I tell these Arizona Texicans anything, they up and say I'm
+lyin'."</p>
+
+<p>He ran his eye over his audience and, finding no one to combat him
+further, he lapsed into a mellow philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, cocking his eye again at Bowles; "I'm an ignorant kind
+of a feller, and I don't deny it; but I ain't one of these men that
+won't believe a thing jest because I never seen it. Now, here's a
+gentleman here&mdash;I don't even know his name&mdash;but the chances are, if he's
+ever been to Coney, he'll tell you my stories is nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"How about that hundred-foot pole?" inquired Poker Bill, as Bowles bowed
+and blushed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sure!" agreed Brigham readily. "We'll take that one now and let it
+go fer the bunch. If that's true, they're all true, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's me!" observed Bill laconically.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then, stranger," continued Brigham. "We'll jest leave the
+matter with you, and if what I said ain't true I'll never open my head
+again. I was tellin' these pore, ignorant Texas cotton-pickers that back
+at Coney Island they was a feller that did high divin'&mdash;ever see
+anything like that? All right, then, this is what I told 'em. I told 'em
+this divin' sport had a pole a hundred foot high, with a tank of water
+at the bottom six foot deep and mebbe ten foot square, and when it come
+time he climbed up to the top and stood on a little platform, facin'
+backwards and lookin' into a pocket mirror. Then he begun to lean over
+backwards, and finally, when everything was set, he threw a flip-flap
+and hit that tank a dead center without hurtin' himself a bit. Now, how
+about it&mdash;is that a lie?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked up at Bowles with a steady gaze; and that gentleman did not
+fail him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," he said; "really, I see no reason to doubt what you say. Of
+course, I haven't been to Coney Island recently, but such events are
+quite a common occurrence there."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you see?" inquired Brigham triumphantly. "This gentleman has been
+around a little. Back at Coney them stunts is nothin'! They don't even
+charge admission."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can that feller hit the water every time?" argued Bill the
+doubter, pressing forward to fight the matter out.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make no difference how he does it," answered Brigham; "that's
+<i>his</i> business. If people knowed how he done it, they wouldn't come to
+see 'im no more. By jicks, I'd jest like to take some of you fellers
+back to New York and show you some of the real sights. I ain't hardly
+dared to open my mouth since I took on with this ignorant outfit, but
+now that I got a gentleman here that's been around a little I may loosen
+up and tell you a few things."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my Joe!" groaned Hardy Atkins, making a motion like fanning bees
+from his ears. "Hear the doggone Mormon talk&mdash;and never been outer the
+Territory! Been pitchin' hay and drinkin' ditch-water down on the Gila
+all his life and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," retorted Brigham stoutly; "I reckon&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, git out of the way!" shouted the voice of Buck. "And throw down
+that frame so I can roast these ribs!"</p>
+
+<p>That ended the controversy for the time, but before the ribs were cooked
+Brigham edged in another story&mdash;and he proved it by Mr. Bowles. It was a
+trifle improbable, perhaps, but Bowles was getting the spirit of the
+Great West and he vouched for it in every particular. Then when the ribs
+were done he cut some of the scorched meat from the bones, and ate it
+half-raw with a pinch of salt, for he was determined to be a true sport.
+Buck and Brigham devoured from one to two pounds apiece and gnawed on
+the bones like dogs; but Mr. Bowles was more moderate in his desires.
+What he really longed for was a bed or a place to sleep; but the
+gentleman who had coached him on cowboy life&mdash;and sold him his fancy
+outfit&mdash;had not mentioned the sleeping accommodations, and Bowles was
+too polite to inquire. So he hung around until the last story was told,
+and followed the gang back to the bunk-house.</p>
+
+<p>Each man went to his big blanket roll and spread it out for the night
+without a single glance at the suppliant, for a cowboy hates to share
+his bed; but as they were taking off their boots Brigham Clark spoke up.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't you got no bed, stranger?" he inquired; and when Bowles shook his
+head he looked at Hardy Atkins, who as bronco-twister and top-hand held
+the job of straw-boss. A silence fell and Bowles glanced about uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a bed over there in the saddle-room," observed Atkins, with a
+peculiar smile.</p>
+
+<p>A startled look went around the room, and then Buck came in on the play.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "that feller ain't here now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you," began Bowles, starting toward it; but he was halted in
+his tracks by a savage oath from Brigham.</p>
+
+<p>"Here!" he ordered. "You come and sleep with me&mdash;that's Dunbar's bed!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dunbar's!" exclaimed Bowles with a gasp. "Ah, I see!" And with a secret
+shudder he turned away from the dead man's bed and crept in next to
+Brigham.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>WA-HA-LOTE</h3>
+
+
+<p>The cowboy's day begins early, no matter how he spends his night. It was
+four o'clock in the morning and Bowles was dead with sleep when suddenly
+the light of a lantern was thrown in his eyes and he heard the cook's
+voice rousing up the horse wranglers.</p>
+
+<p>"Wranglers!" he rasped, shaking Brigham by the shoulder. "Git up, Brig;
+it's almost day!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Gus!" answered Brigham, cuddling down for another nap; but
+Gloomy Gus had awakened too many generations of cowboys to be deceived
+by a play like that, and on his way out to finish breakfast he stumbled
+over Brigham's boots and woke him up to give them to him. So, with many
+a yawn and sigh, poor Brigham and his fellow wrangler stamped on their
+boots and went out to round up the horse pasture, and shortly afterward
+a shrill yell from the cook gave notice that breakfast was ready. Five
+minutes later he yelled again and beat harshly on a dishpan; then, as
+the rumble of the horse herd was heard, he came and kicked open the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, git up, boys!" he shouted. "Breakfast's waitin' and the remuda is
+in the c'rell! The old man will be down hollerin' 'Hawses!' before you
+git yore coffee!"</p>
+
+<p>The bite of the cold morning air swept in as he stood there and roused
+them at last to action. Swiftly Buck and Bill and Happy Jack rolled out
+and hustled into their clothes; other men not yet known by name hurried
+forth to wash for breakfast; and at last Bowles stepped out, to find the
+sky full of stars. A cold wind breathed in from the east, where the
+deceitful radiance of the false dawn set a halo on the distant ridges;
+and the cowboy's life, for the moment, seemed to offer very little to an
+errant lover. Around the cook's fire, with their coat collars turned up
+to their ears, a group of punchers was hovering in a half-circle,
+leaving the other half for Gloomy Gus. Their teeth chattered in the
+frosty silence, and one by one they washed their faces in hot water from
+the cook's can and waited for the signal to eat. Then the wranglers came
+in, half frozen from their long ride in the open pasture, and as Brigham
+poured out a cup of coffee, regardless, old Gus raised the lid from a
+Dutch oven, glanced in at the nicely browned biscuits and hollered:</p>
+
+<p>"Fly at it!"</p>
+
+<p>A general scramble for plates and cups followed; then a raid on the
+ovens and coffee-pots and kettles; and inside of three minutes twenty
+men were crouching on the ground, each one supplied with beans, biscuits
+and beef&mdash;the finest the range produced. They ate and came back for
+more, and Bowles tried to follow their example; but breakfast at home
+had been served at a later hour, and it had not been served on the
+ground, either. However, he ate what he could and drank a pint of coffee
+that made him as brave as a lion. It was real range coffee, that had set
+on the grounds over night and been boiled for an hour in the morning. It
+was strong, and made him forget the cold; but just as he was beginning
+to feel like a man again silence fell on the crowd, and Henry Lee
+appeared.</p>
+
+<p>In his riding boots, and with a wooden-handled old Colt's in his shaps,
+Mr. Lee was a different creature from the little man that Bowles had
+whipsawed on the previous evening. He was a dominating man, and as he
+stood by the fire for a minute and waited for enough light to rope by,
+Mr. Bowles began to have his regrets. It is one thing to bully-rag a man
+on his front steps, and quite another to ride bronks on a cold morning.
+The memory of a man named Dunbar came over him, and he wondered if he
+had died in the morning, when his bones were brittle and cold. He
+remembered other things, including Dixie Lee, but without any positive
+inspiration; and he took a sneaking pleasure at last in the fact that
+Mr. Lee appeared to have forgotten all about him.</p>
+
+<p>But Henry Lee was not the man to let an Eastern tenderfoot run it over
+him, and just as he called for horses and started over toward the corral
+he said to Hardy Atkins:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hardy, catch up that Dunbar horse and put this gentleman's saddle
+on him, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>He waved his hand toward Bowles, whose heart had just missed a beat, and
+pulled on a trim little glove.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;Dunbar?" gasped the bronco-twister, startled out of his calm.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," returned Lee quietly. "The gentleman claims he can ride."</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;him?" demanded Atkins, pointing incredulously at the willowy
+Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;him!" answered the cattleman firmly. "And after what he said to me
+last evening he's either got to ride Dunbar or own himself a
+coward&mdash;that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," responded the twister, relieved by the alternative; and with a
+wink at Buck and the rest of the crowd he went rollicking out to the
+corral. By the usual sort of telepathy Hardy Atkins had come to hate and
+despise Bowles quite as heartily as Bowles had learned to hate him, and
+the prospect of putting the Easterner up against Dunbar made his feet
+bounce off the ground. First he roped out his own mount and saddled him
+by the gate; then, as the slower men caught their horses and prepared
+for the work of the day, he leaned against the bars and pointed out the
+man-killer to Bowles, meanwhile edging in his little talk.</p>
+
+<p>"See that brown over there?" he queried, as Bowles stared breathlessly
+out over the sea of tossing heads. "No, here he is now&mdash;that wall-eyed
+devil with his hip knocked down&mdash;he got that when he rared over and
+killed Dunbar. Can't you see 'im? Right over that bald-faced sorrel!
+Yes, that hawse that limps behind!"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment some impetuous cowboy roped at his mount and the round
+corral became a raging maelstrom of rushing horses, thundering about in
+a circle and throwing the dirt twenty feet high; but as a counter
+movement checked the charge and the wind blew the dust away, the lanky
+form of the horse that killed Dunbar loomed up on the edge of the herd.
+He was a big, raw-boned brute, colored a sunburned, dusty brown, and a
+limp in his off hind leg gave him a slinking, stealthy air; but what
+impressed Bowles the most was the sinister look in his eyes. If ever a
+horse was a congenital criminal, Dunbar was the animal. His head was
+long and bony and bulging around the ears, and his eyes were sunk deep,
+like a rattlesnake's, and with a rattlesnake's baleful glare. But there
+was more than a snaky wildness in them: the wicked creature seemed to be
+meditating upon his awful past, and scheming greater crimes, until his
+haggard, watchful eyes were set in a fixed, brooding stare. He was a bad
+horse, old Dunbar, and Atkins was there to play him up.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to be careful not to hurt that hawse," he warned, as Bowles
+caught his breath and started. "The boss expects to git a thousand
+dollars fer him at the Cheyenne Rough-Riding Contest next summer. Now
+that old Steamboat is rode, and Teddy Roosevelt is busted, they's big
+money hangin' up fer a bad hawse. Got to have one, you know. It's fer
+the championship of the world, and if they don't git another man-killer
+they can't have no contest. I would've tried him myself, but he's too
+valuable. How do you ride&mdash;with yore stirrups tied? No? Well, I reckon
+you're right&mdash;likely to get caught and killed if he throws himself over
+back. You ain't down here fer a Wild West Show, are ye? Uh-huh, jest
+thought you might be&mdash;knowed you wasn't a puncher. Well, we'll saddle
+him up fer you now&mdash;if you say so!"</p>
+
+<p>He lingered significantly on the last words, and Henry Lee, who was
+standing near, half smiled; but there must have been some sporting blood
+back in the Bowles family somewhere, for Mr. Bowles merely murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"If you will, please!" and got his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>So there was nothing for Atkins to do but go in and try to catch Dunbar.
+The bronco-twister shook out his rope, glanced at the boss, glanced at
+him again, and dropped reluctantly into the corral. Hardy Atkins would
+rather have taken a whipping than put a saddle on Dunbar; but he was up
+against it now, so he lashed his loop out on the ground and advanced to
+make his throw. One by one the horses that had gathered about Dunbar ran
+off to the right or left, and as the old man-killer made his dash to
+escape the long rope shot out with a lightning swiftness and settled
+around his neck. The twister passed the rope behind him, sat back on it
+and dug his high heels into the ground; but the jerk was too much for
+his hand-grip, and before anyone could tail on behind he let go and
+turned the horse loose.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as the great whirlpool of frightened horses went charging around
+the corral, Buck Buchanan, the man with the bull-moose voice, hopped
+down and rushed to the center. Some one threw an extra rope to Hardy
+Atkins, and once more they closed in on the outlaw. But the horse that
+killed Dunbar was better than the two of them, and soon he had a second
+rope to trail. A third and a fourth man leaped in to join the conflict;
+and as they roped and ran and fought with Dunbar the remuda went crazy
+with excitement and threatened to break down the fence.</p>
+
+<p>"Put up them bars!" yelled Hardy Atkins, as a beautiful, dappled black
+made a balk to leap over the gate. "Now all on this rope, boys&mdash;snub him
+to that post&mdash;oh, hell!" The pistol-like report of a grass rope parting
+filled out the rest of the sentence. Then the bronco-twister came
+limping over to the gate where Bowles and Henry Lee were sitting,
+shaking the blood from a freshly barked knuckle.</p>
+
+<p>"We can't hold the blinkety-blank," he announced, gazing defiantly at
+the boss. "And what's the use, anyhow?" he demanded, petulantly. "They
+ain't a bronk in the remuda that can't throw this Englishman a mile! Of
+course, if you want us to take a day to it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, catch Wa-ha-lote, then!" snapped Mr. Lee. "And be quick about it!
+I've got something else to do, Mr. Bowles," he observed tartly, "besides
+saddle up man-killers for a man that can't sit a trotting-horse!"</p>
+
+<p>This was evidently an allusion to Mr. Bowles' way of putting the English
+on a jog-trot; but Bowles was too much interested to resent it. He was
+watching Hardy Atkins advancing on the dappled black that had tried to
+jump the bars.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he cried enthusiastically, "is that the horse you mean? Oh, isn't
+he a beautiful creature! It's so kind of you to make the change!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es!" drawled Mr. Lee; and all the cowboys smiled. Next to Dunbar,
+Wa-ha-lote was the champion scrapper of the Bat Wing. There had been a
+day when he was gentle, but ever since a drunken Texas cowboy had ridden
+him with the spurs his views of life had changed. He had decided that no
+decent, self-respecting horse would stand for such treatment and, after
+piling a few adventurous bronco-busters, had settled down to a life of
+ease and plenty. The finest looking horse in the remuda, by all odds,
+was old Wa-ha-lote, the Water-dog. He was fat and shiny, and carried his
+tail straight up, like a banner; the yellow dapples, like the spots on a
+salamander's black hide&mdash;whence his Mexican name, Wa-ha-lote&mdash;were
+bright and plain in the sunlight; and he held his head up high as he
+ramped around the corral.</p>
+
+<p>The sun had come up over the San Ramon Mountains while Hardy Atkins was
+wrestling with Dunbar; it soared still higher while the boys caught
+Wa-ha-lote. But caught he was, and saddled, for the horse never lived
+that a bunch of Texas punchers cannot tie. It was hot work, with skinned
+knuckles and rope-burned hands to pay for it; but the hour of revenge
+was at hand, and they called for Bowles. A wild look was in every eye,
+and heaven only knows what would have happened had he refused; but the
+hot sun and the excitement had aroused Mr. Bowles from his calm, and he
+answered like a bridegroom. Perhaps a flash of white up by the big house
+added impetus to his feet; but, be that as it may, he slipped blithely
+through the bars and hurried out to his mount.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a beautiful horse!" he cried, standing back to admire his
+lines. "Do you need that blinder on his eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"What I say!" commented Atkins, ambiguously. "Now you pile on him and
+take this quirt, and when I push the blind up you holler and throw it
+into 'im. Are you ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a moment!" murmured Bowles, and for the space of half a minute he
+stood patting old Water-dog's neck where he stood there, grim and
+waiting, his iron legs set like posts and every muscle aquiver. Then,
+with unexpected quickness, he swung lightly into the saddle and settled
+himself in the stirrups.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said. "Release him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Release him it is!" shouted Atkins, with brutal exulting. "Let 'im go,
+boys; and&mdash;<i>yee-pah</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>He raised the blind with a single jerk, leaped back, and warped
+Wa-ha-lote over the rump with a coil of rope. Other men did as much, or
+more; and Bowles did not forget to holler.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up, old fellow!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>As the lashes fell, Wa-ha-lote made one mighty plunge&mdash;and stopped.
+Then, as the crowd scattered, he shook out his mane and charged straight
+at the high, pole gate. A shout went up, and a cry of warning, and as
+the cowboys who draped the bars scrambled down to escape the crash
+Bowles was seen to lean forward; he struck with his quirt, and
+Wa-ha-lote vaulted the bars like a hunter. But even then he was not
+satisfied. Two panel gates stood between him and the open, and he took
+them both like a bird; then the dust rose up in his wake and the Bat
+Wing outfit stood goggle-eyed and blasphemous.</p>
+
+<p>"W'y, the blankety-blank!" crooned Hardy Atkins.</p>
+
+<p>"Too skeered to pitch!" lamented Buck.</p>
+
+<p>"You hit 'im too hard!" shouted Happy Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"But that feller kin ride!" put in Brigham stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, listen to the Mormon-faced dastard!" raved Hardy Atkins; and as the
+conversation rose mountain high, the white dresses up on the hill
+fluttered back inside the house. But when Bowles came riding back on
+Wa-ha-lote not even the outraged Hardy could deny that the Bat Wing had
+a new hand.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ROUND-UP</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is an old saying that there is no combination or percentage known
+that can beat bull luck. Bowles was lucky; but he didn't know how lucky
+he was, never having seen a real bronk pitch. After Wa-ha-lote had had
+his run he changed his mind again and decided to be good, and when
+Bowles galloped him back to the ranch he was as gentle as a dog, and the
+top horse in the remuda. Even when Bowles started to rise to the trot
+the Water-dog was no more than badly puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the outfit was pouring out the gate on their way to the
+belated round-up, and all except the principals had decided to take it
+as a joke. To be sure, they had lost an hour's daylight, and broken a
+few throw-ropes; but the time was not absolutely lost. Bowles would soon
+draw a bronk that <i>would</i> pitch, and then&mdash;oh, you English dude! They
+greeted him kindly, then, with the rough good-nature you read so much
+about, and as Bowles loosened up they saw he was an easy mark.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, pardner," said one, "you sure can jump the fences! Where'd you
+learn that&mdash;back at Coney Island?"</p>
+
+<p>"Coney Island nothin'!" retorted another. "W'y, Joe, you show your
+ignorance! This gentleman is from England&mdash;can't you see him ride?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I knowed all along he was goin' to ride Wa-ha-lote," observed a
+third, oracularly. "I could tell by the way he walked up to him. How's
+he goin', stranger&mdash;make a pretty good buggy-horse, wouldn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" beamed Bowles. "That is, I presume he would. He is one of
+the best gaited animals I ever rode. A perfect riding horse! Really, I
+can't remember when I've enjoyed such a glorious gallop!"</p>
+
+<p>They crowded around him then, in an anxious, attentive cluster, still
+jabbing their horses with the spurs to keep up with Henry Lee but
+salting away his naive remarks for future reference.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Lee was just making some little gathers near the home ranch while
+he waited for his neighbors to send in their stray men for the big
+round-up, and as the conversation rattled on in the rear he headed
+straight for a range of hills to the south. An hour of hard riding
+followed, and then, as they began to encounter cattle, he told off men
+by ones and twos to drive them in to the cutting ground. Hardy Atkins
+took another bunch of men and rode for a distant point, and soon the
+whole outfit was strung out in a great circle that closed in slowly upon
+a lonely windmill that stood at the base of the hills.</p>
+
+<p>As no one gave him orders, Bowles tagged along for a while and then
+threw in with Brigham, hoping to imbibe some much-needed information
+about the cow business from him; but a slow, brooding silence had come
+over that son of the desert and he confined his remarks to few words.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't crowd the cattle," he said; "and don't chase 'em. They's nothin'
+to it&mdash;jest watch the other hands."</p>
+
+<p>He mogged along glumly then, spitting tobacco and looking wise whenever
+Bowles made effusive remarks; and soon the spirit of the wide places
+took hold of the impressionable Easterner and taught him to be still.
+The sun was shining gloriously now, and the air was like new wine; he
+had conquered Wa-ha-lote, and won a job on the ranch; yet, even as the
+hot blood coursed in his veins and his heart leaped for joy, the solemn
+silence of burly Brigham exhorted him to peace. Nay, more than that, it
+set up uneasy questionings in his mind and made him ponder upon what he
+had said. Perhaps he had spoken foolishly in the first flush of his
+victory; he might even have laid himself open to future gibes and jests,
+branding himself for a tenderfoot with every word he said.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, indeed; perhaps he had. At any rate, the first words he heard as
+they neared the cutting-grounds were indicative of the fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, Bill!" roared Buck Buchanan, wafting his bull voice across the
+herd. "Release that Bar X cow!"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pahdon?" replied Bill, holding his hand behind his ear; and then
+there was a rumble of Homeric laughter that left Bowles hot with shame.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, Buck!" echoed Happy Jack, reining his horse out to turn back an
+ambling steer; and while all hands watched him eagerly he struck into a
+rough trot across the plain. Then, holding out his elbows in a manner
+that he supposed to be English, he bobbed higher and higher at every
+jump until he fell face forward on his horse's neck, and the cowboys
+whooped for joy. Bowles was able to laugh at this joke, and he tried to
+do it graciously; but the sudden wave of good manners and faultless
+grammar which swept over the crowd left him heated and mad clear
+through. Any dreams he might have cherished of becoming the little tin
+hero of the cow country were shattered beyond repair, and he saw the
+American cowboy as he really is&mdash;a very frail and human creature, who
+scorns all things new and foreign, and particularly objects to Eastern
+tenderfeet who try to beat him at his own game.</p>
+
+<p>If Bowles had been piled in the dirt by his first mount and come limping
+forth with a grin, he would have won a corralful of friends by his grit;
+as it was, he had ridden Wa-ha-lote, a horse supposed to be a rank
+outlaw, and the cowboys were quick to resent it. Even the loyal Brigham
+had turned against him, looking on with a cynical smile as he saw him
+mocked; and as for Henry Lee, he could not even get near him. Scorn and
+anger and a patrician aloofness swept over Bowles' countenance by turns,
+and then he took Brigham's unspoken counsel and let the heathen rage. It
+was hard on his pride, but he schooled himself to endure it; and as cant
+phrase after cant phrase came back at him and he realized how loosely he
+had talked he decided in the future to keep his mouth shut. So far, at
+least, he had caught the great spirit of the West.</p>
+
+<p>But now for the first time there was spread out before his eyes the
+shifting drama of the cow country, and he could not resist its appeal.
+On the edge of a great plain and within sight of jagged rock-ribbed
+mountains he beheld the herd of lowing cattle, the remuda of spare
+horses, the dashing cowboys, the fire with its heating irons, and all
+the changing scenes that go to make up a Western branding. For a spell
+the herd stood still while mothers sought out their calves and restless
+bulls plowed in and out; then when the clamor and blatting had lulled,
+and all hands had got a drink and made a change of horses, a pair of
+ropers rode into the herd, marking down each cow and calf and making
+sure they were mother and offspring. At last, when Henry Lee and his
+neighbors' stray men were satisfied, the ropers shook out their loops,
+crowded in on some unbranded calf and flipped the noose over its head.
+Like automatons, the quick-stepping little cutting ponies whirled and
+started for the fire, dragging the calves behind them by neck or legs or
+feet. Any way the rope fell was good enough for the cowboys, and the
+ponies came in on the lope.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the calf pranced its frantic mother, head down and smelling its
+hide, and a pair of cowboys stationed for that purpose rode in and
+turned her back. Then the flankers rushed out and caught the rope, and
+the strong member seized the calf by its neck and flank and with an
+upward boost of the knees raised its feet from the ground and threw it
+flat on its side. One held up its head, the other the hind legs, and in
+a flash the ear-markers and hot-iron men were upon it, to give it a
+brand for life.</p>
+
+<p>"Bat Wing!" called the dragger-up, giving the mother's brand. There was
+a blat, a puff of white smoke, and the calf was turned back to his
+"Mammy." That was the process, very simple to the cowboy and entirely
+devoid of any suggestion of pain; but to Bowles it seemed rather brutal,
+and he went back to help hold the herd.</p>
+
+<p>As one roper after the other pursued his calf through the throng, or
+chased it over the plain while he made wild and ineffectual throws, the
+great herd milled and moved and shifted like a thing of life. At a
+distance of a hundred feet or more apart a circle of careless punchers
+sat their mounts, nominally engaged in holding the herd but mostly
+loafing on the job or talking it over in pairs. To Bowles it seemed that
+they were very negligent indeed, letting cows walk out which could have
+been turned back by the flip of a rope, and then spurring furiously
+after them as they made a break for the hills. If a calf which the
+ropers had failed to catch came dashing by, one guard, or even two,
+might leave his place to join in a mad pursuit, meanwhile leaving Bowles
+and Wa-ha-lote to patrol the entire flank of the herd. To be sure, he
+liked to do it; but their system seemed very poor to him, though he did
+not venture to say so.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, with futile pursuits and monotonous waits, the branding
+dragged slowly along, and suddenly Bowles realized he was hungry. He
+looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly noon, but he could
+perceive no symptoms of dinner. He regretted now the insufficient
+breakfast which he had eaten, remembering with a shade of envy the
+primitive appetite which had enabled the others to bolt beefsteaks like
+ravening wolves; also, he resolved to put a biscuit in his pocket the
+next time he rode out on the circle. But this availed him nothing in his
+extremity, and as the others sought to assuage their pangs with
+brown-paper cigarettes he almost regretted the freak of nicety which had
+kept him from learning to smoke. It was noon now&mdash;seven hours since
+breakfast&mdash;and just as he was about to make some guarded inquiries of
+Brigham the work of branding ceased. The branders, their faces grimed
+and sweaty and their hands caked with blood, pulled on their heavy shaps
+and came riding up to the herd; but not to cry: "Release them!"</p>
+
+<p>Odious as these words had become to Bowles, they would have sounded good
+under the circumstances; but there was more work yet to come. Driving a
+bunch of old cows to one side for a "hold-up," Henry Lee and his
+strenuous assistants began cutting out dogie calves. Everything over a
+year old was fated to become a feeder and, while mothers bellowed and
+their offspring protested, Hardy Atkins and the best of the cowhands
+hazed the calves into the hold-up herd. It was a long and tedious
+operation, involving numerous wearisome chases after calves that wanted
+their mothers; and when at last it was done and the main herd was
+released, behold, a lot of cows and undesirables had to be cut back from
+the hold-up herd. Then the dogies had to be separated into yearlings and
+"twos"; and when Bowles was about ready to drop off his horse from
+weakness Henry Lee detailed a bunch of unfortunates to drive up the
+calves, and turned his pony toward home. To him it was just a little
+gather while the neighbors were sending in their men; but to Bowles it
+combined the extreme hardships of a round-up with the rigors of a forty
+days' fast.</p>
+
+<p>In a way it was all Bowles' fault, too, for he had kept the whole outfit
+waiting while he made a bluff at riding Dunbar. His resolution to keep
+his mouth shut stood him in good stead now, for a hungry man is a wolf
+and will fight if you say a word. There were no gay quips and gags now,
+no English riding and classic quotations; every man threw the spurs into
+his horse and started on a run for camp. Wa-ha-lote pulled at the bit a
+time or two at this, and Bowles did not try to restrain him; he broke
+into a gallop, free and sweeping as the wind, and the tired cutting
+horses fell behind; then as the ranch showed up in the distance he
+settled down to a tireless lope, eating up the hurrying miles until
+Bowles could have hugged him for joy.</p>
+
+<p>Here was a horse of a thousand&mdash;this black, named in an alien tongue
+Wa-ha-lote&mdash;and he longed as he rode into the ranch to give him some
+token of friendship&mdash;a lump of sugar, or whatever these desert horses
+liked best to eat&mdash;in order to hold his regard. So he trotted over to
+the cook's wagon, being extremely careful not to bob, and asked Gloomy
+Gus for a lump of sugar. Now Gus, as it happened, was in another bad
+humor, due to the boys' being an hour or so late, and to a second matter
+of which Bowles knew nothing; and he did not even so much as vouchsafe
+an answer to his request.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," began Bowles again, when it was evident he was not
+going to get the sugar. "Perhaps you will give me a biscuit, then. You
+see," he explained rather shamefacedly, "I am riding this horse for the
+first time, and he has been so gentle I wanted to give him something.
+Any little thing, you know, and I shall be glad to pay for it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not cookin' fer hawses!" observed Gloomy Gus; but at the same time
+he glanced apprehensively toward a long pile of cord-wood which flanked
+his fire to the south; and as if to verify his suspicions a summer hat
+appeared from behind the tiers of crooked juniper and a lady stepped
+into view. She was a very beautiful lady, middle-aged and with haunting
+brown eyes; and the moment she turned them upon Bowles he knew she was
+Dixie Lee's mother. Not that she looked so much like the elusive Dixie
+May, but she had the same way with her eyes&mdash;and, besides that, she was
+very contained and quiet, and looked as if she came from the East. She
+gazed at him for a moment with a kind, motherly air&mdash;as if she had heard
+all he said&mdash;and addressed herself to the cook.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, Gus," she began, speaking in the low-pitched tones of the
+drawing-room, "I can't imagine what happens to those eggs. I have over
+forty hens, and surely they lay more than seven eggs a day. There's one
+nest, away in there, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>I</i> ain't took none," grumbled Gus, turning sulkily to his pots
+and kettles; "that's all I got to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," broke in Bowles, swinging lightly down from his horse and
+standing hat in hand, "perhaps I could creep in and&mdash;&mdash;" He smiled as he
+had smiled at the ladies who attended the Wordsworth Society, and Mrs.
+Lee glanced at him approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't trouble yourself," she said politely. "If it were humanly
+possible to reach them, I am sure they would be gone by now. I didn't
+mean to blame you at all, Mr. Mosby,"&mdash;this to the cook&mdash;"but, really, I
+was trying to save enough eggs to make the boys a cake."</p>
+
+<p>A wave of indignation swept over Bowles. He remembered those graceless
+"boys" roasting eggs by the fire at night, and he thought how little
+they deserved her kindness; but all he did was to murmur his
+appreciation. At this the lady looked at him again, like one who knows
+her own kind, and her voice was very pleasant as she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are the young man that rode Wa-ha-lote this morning, aren't
+you? Ah, he is such a beautiful horse!" She came over and stroked his
+neck thoughtfully while Bowles stood by his head and smiled. "Don't you
+know," she said, "I have always claimed that a horse could be conquered
+by kindness. And I'm so glad!" she murmured, with a confidential touch
+of the hand. "Won't you come up to the house, and I'll give you that
+lump of sugar."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE QUEEN AT HOME</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Bat Wing ranch, with its big white house on the hill, its whirling
+windmill, its tank that spread out like a lake and gleamed like liquid
+silver, its pole corrals, its adobe houses half shaded by wind-tossed
+cottonwoods, was one of the most sightly in Arizona. The yellow-white
+sheen of the bunch grass made the distance seem fair and inviting; at
+sunset the saw-toothed summits of the Tortugas changed to blues and
+purples and mysterious, cañon-deep black; the heavy bunches of sacaton
+out in the horse pasture gleamed white in the evening glow. Many riders
+passed by that way, rigged out in the finery of their kind, and most of
+them took it all in&mdash;and yet, at times, the place looked kind of bare
+and tame.</p>
+
+<p>Bowles was a stranger to those parts and he admired the landscape
+mightily; but to him too it seemed a little bare. It needed a dash of
+color, a vigorous girlish figure in the foreground, to give it the last
+vivid touch. But the queen, of course, must be humored&mdash;let the picture
+wait! So Bowles waited, along with the rest of the bunch, and in the
+evening while they were at their supper the Queen of the Bat Wing came.
+At the Wordsworth Society she had been stunningly gowned in a creation
+which Bowles would not soon forget; on the train she had worn a tailored
+traveling dress, very severe and becoming, the only note of defiance
+being in the hat, which was her Western sombrero with a veil to take off
+the curse. But now the trimming was gone, and a silver-buckled,
+horsehair band took its place. Dixie May was back on her own range and
+she wore what clothes she pleased!</p>
+
+<p>First there was the hat, a trim, fifteen-dollar Stetson held on by a
+strap that lapped behind; then a white shirt-waist to supply the touch
+of color; a divided skirt of golden-brown corduroy; and high-heeled
+cowboy boots, very tiny, and supplied with silver-mounted spurs, ornate
+with Mexican conchos. She wore a quirt on her wrist, and her hair in
+Indian braids, and a fine coat of newly acquired tan on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>A silence fell on the squatting punchers as she ran lightly down from
+the house; one or two of them ducked out of sight as she passed through
+the gate, but the rest sat motionless, stoically feeding themselves with
+their knives, and waiting for the queen to pass. Only Bowles, the man
+from the East, rose up and took off his hat; but Dixie Lee remembered
+her promise, and never so much as looked at him.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a>
+<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"ONLY BOWLES, THE MAN FROM THE EAST, ROSE AND TOOK OFF HIS HAT"</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>"Hello, Brig," she said, singling out the blushing Brigham for a teasing
+grin. "'Evening, Mr. Mosby. Say, Maw sent me down to look for some
+eggs&mdash;she wants to make a cake for these worthless punchers before she
+invites 'em up to hear the phonograph."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Miss Dix," responded the cook, shuffling and ill at ease.
+"I'm afraid yore maw is goin' to be disapp'inted. If you can find any
+eggs around here, you're welcome to 'em. <i>I</i> ain't got none hid
+out&mdash;that's all I'll say."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know where they go to, Mr. Mosby," replied Dixie Lee, showing her
+white teeth in a knowing smile. "If a man will suck eggs, he'll
+steal&mdash;you know that saying yourself&mdash;and I can tell by the shells
+around the fire here what's going on o' nights."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's that big fat Brigham Clark!" spoke up Hardy Atkins. "You
+don't want to judge the whole outfit by <i>him</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>At this bare-faced libel Bowles cleared his throat to speak. He had
+noticed particularly on the evening before that the eggs were brought in
+by Happy Jack and Hardy Atkins himself; but before he could enter a
+protest a general rumble of laughter set him back to a thinking part.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir!" observed Buck Buchanan, speaking to the world at large.
+"That feller sucks aigs worse'n a setter pup."</p>
+
+<p>"An' he don't deny it none, neither," commented Happy Jack, as poor
+Brigham blushed deeper and hung his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Jest born that way, I reckon," remarked Poker-face in a tone of pity;
+and then the whole outfit broke into a whoop of laughter. It was a new
+form of jesting to Bowles, and he retired to the shelter of the
+wood-pile. A sudden gloom had come over his soul, and it even affected
+his appetite, whetted keen by the cold, thin air. Of course, Dixie Lee
+had told him she would do so, but it seemed rather heartless not to look
+at him. He sat down with his back against the jagged juniper stubs and
+listened sullenly, while the punchers chuckled in front of him and
+continued to eat with their knives.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Brig's jest bashful, that's all," explained some simple-minded
+joker, after every one else had had his say; and as his hollow laughter
+rose up, Bowles wondered dimly why Brigham did not retort. The evening
+before, when he was telling stories around the fire, he had returned a
+Roland for an Oliver until even Hardy Atkins had been content to quit;
+but now he confined himself to self-conscious mutterings and
+exhortations to shut up. Perhaps the simple-minded joker was right&mdash;poor
+Brigham was bashful.</p>
+
+<p>But Dixie Lee had come down to get some eggs and she did not allow camp
+persiflage to divert her from her purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, say," she said, getting up from the cook's private seat, "I came
+down to hunt for eggs&mdash;who wants to help me?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's where I shine!" cried Hardy Atkins, throwing his tin plate into
+the washtub with a great clatter. "They's a nest around hyer in the
+wood-pile!"</p>
+
+<p>He capered around the end of the wood-pile, and soon Bowles could hear
+him panting as he forced his way in between the crooked sticks.</p>
+
+<p>"Hyer they are!" he shouted at last. "I got a whole hatful&mdash;somebody
+pull me out by the laig!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a ripple of high-pitched laughter from Dixie Lee, an interval
+in which Bowles cursed his fate most heartily, and then a frantic outcry
+from Hardy:</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, there, don't pull so fast! You Dix, you'll break my aigs! Well,
+laugh, then, doggone it! Now see what you went and done!"</p>
+
+<p>A general shout of laughter followed, and Hardy Atkins, his lips pouted
+out to play the fool, and his eyes rolling to catch their laughter, came
+ambling around the wood-pile with a hat that looked like an amateur
+conjurer's after the celebrated egg trick. But there were enough whole
+ones left to make a cake, and Happy Jack came galloping in with a hatful
+from his own private cache; so everybody laughed, though Brigham looked
+on sourly enough. A rapid fire of barbed jests followed; then, with her
+two admirers behind her and the others gazing dumbly on, Dixie Lee ran
+lightly back to the house, and Bowles had had his first lookin on ranch
+society. It did not look so good to him, either, and yet&mdash;well, just as
+Dixie May turned away she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
+To be sure, it was one of Hardy Atkins' raw jokes at which she was
+laughing, but somehow a golden glow crept into the sunset, and ranch
+society did not seem so bad.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later Dixie Lee was down at the corral bridling a
+white-faced roan, and soon, with Happy Jack for an escort, she was
+galloping away to the east where, like glowworms in the dusk, the
+scattered lights of settlers' houses showed the first beginnings of a
+neighborhood. The phonograph was going to play in the big house that
+evening, and all the "nesters" were invited.</p>
+
+<p>No one had been more outraged than Henry Lee when the first nesters came
+in on his range; but latterly he had come to regard them tolerantly as
+poor, misguided creatures, slightly touched in the head on the subject
+of high-and-dry farming. Having seen a few hundred of them starve out
+and move on, he had accepted them as a necessary evil, and deemed it no
+more than right, if the women-folks wanted to invite them, to ask the
+few nearest ones to the house and help them forget their misery. So the
+whole-souled Dixie May was off to call in the company while the cowboys
+were scraping their beards off and dolling up for the dance.</p>
+
+<p>It was Saturday night, as a matter of fact, and though all days are
+alike to a puncher his evenings are his own around the ranch. One by one
+the socially backward and inept caught the fever and began to search
+their war-bags for silk handkerchiefs and clean shirts. Only Brigham
+remained recalcitrant, and no argument could induce him to shave.</p>
+
+<p>"I was on the wrangle last night," he complained, as the forehanded ones
+came back to argue the matter, "and I'm short on my sleep. Say, lemme
+be, can't ye&mdash;what difference does it make to you fellers, anyway? They
+won't be girls enough to go around, nohow!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, come up and hear the music," urged the Bar Seven stray man, who
+wanted him for company.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Lee invited you, Brig," reminded Gloomy Gus, who believed that
+every man should do his duty.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, it's too late to do anything now," grumbled Brigham, beginning at
+last to weaken. "And my beard is a fright, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Soak it in hot water, then!" cried Bar Seven enthusiastically. "Come
+on, fellers; let's make 'im do it! It ain't right&mdash;a nice lady like Mrs.
+Lee! She'll think you're 'shamed because you done stole them aigs!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not!" denied Brigham hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, come along, then!" countered Bar Seven triumphantly, "or the boys
+will be tellin' everybody!"</p>
+
+<p>So the last unwilling victim was cajoled into going, and at a cheery
+summons from Dixie May they marched up the hill in a body. It was too
+early yet for the nester girls to appear, and while they were waiting
+for the dance to begin the twenty or more punchers wedged into the big
+front room and settled down to hear the phonograph. A cattle ranch
+without a phonograph nowadays is as rare as a cow outfit without a
+mouth-organ; but the Lees had a fine one, that would play for dances on
+a scratch, and a rack piled high with classic records. Mrs. Lee sat
+beside it, and after welcoming the self-conscious cowboys she asked them
+what they would have.</p>
+
+<p>"The barnyard one!" somebody called; and as the cow mooed, the pig
+squealed, and the hired girl called the chickens, the cowboys laughed
+and forgot their feet. Then Caruso sang a high one, caught his breath
+and expired, and the company shifted in their seats. That was not
+exactly their style.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with the dog fight?" cried a voice from the corner;
+and Mrs. Lee, who had dreams of elevating their taste, sat undecided,
+with the sextet from <i>Lucia</i> in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you would like the <i>Anvil Chorus</i>," she suggested by way of a
+concession.</p>
+
+<p>"No, the dog fight!" clamored Hardy Atkins from the same corner. Then,
+quoting from the well-known favorite, he inquired in up-stage Irish:
+"'Will some sport kindly let Mr. Ho-ogan, the time-keeper, hold his
+watch?'"</p>
+
+<p>"'Faith,'" broke in Happy Jack, continuing the selection, "'an' who will
+hold Ho-ogan, then&mdash;har, har, har, har, har!'"</p>
+
+<p>So contagious was the spell of this laughter that there was nothing for
+it but to put on the record, which gave a dog fight in Harlem from the
+time the bets were made till the spotted dog licked and the place was
+raided by the police. Not very elevating, to be sure, but awfully
+popular, and calling for more of the same. Mrs. Lee sighed wearily and
+laid the sextet aside; then, with quick decision, she resigned her place
+to Dixie May and retired to a seat by the door&mdash;and, as luck would have
+it, she sat down next to Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you take my chair?" he said, rising with all the gallantry of his
+kind. "I enjoyed that <i>Donna e Mobile</i> of Caruso's so much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Mrs. Lee, beaming with pleasure, "you know it, then! And do
+you care for it, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very much!" replied Bowles, falling back into the familiar formula of
+polite conversation; and by the time the phonograph had started up on
+"Casey Jones" they were deep in a discussion of classic music. As often
+happens in good society, they discovered a wonderful similarity in their
+likes and dislikes; and by the time the nester girls began to arrive and
+the dance started up on the gallery, Bowles was very popular in the big
+house&mdash;that is, as far as the hostess was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>But the climax of the evening came at the close of the dance, just as
+Mr. Bowles was taking his leave.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good-night, Mrs. Lee," he murmured as he stood in the half light
+of the porch. "It was so kind of you to invite us up."</p>
+
+<p>He paused then with the rest of his politenesses unsaid, for Dixie Lee
+was coming down the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say how much I have enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Bowles,"
+returned the lady, offering him her hand. "It takes me back to my
+girlhood days, when music was the breath of my life. Perhaps&mdash;&mdash;Oh,
+Dixie, have you met Mr. Bowles?"</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a moment as their eyes met across the abyss, hers
+stern and forbidding, his smiling and conciliatory; and then Dixie bowed
+very stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, not that I remember," she replied, with a militant toss of the
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do, Miss Lee," observed Mr. Bowles, bowing formally as he
+received his congé. "So glad to make your acquaintance!" And, murmuring
+other maddening phrases, he bowed himself out the door, leaving Dixie
+Lee to explain the feud in any way she chose.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>A COWBOY'S LIFE</h3>
+
+
+<p>As the name of the Deity, to a cowboy, means little more than a word to
+swear by, so the holy Sabbath is forgotten as a day of rest. Not that
+the hard-riding puncher would not rest if he got the chance, but the
+traditions of the cow business make no allowances for godliness and
+ease. For forty dollars and found, the round-up hand is expected to work
+every day in the month, and take all his Sundays in a bunch when the
+boss writes out his time. From daylight to dark are his hours of labor,
+with horse wrangling and night-guard to boot; and yet there are men of
+elegance and leisure who try to crush in on the job.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bowles rolled into bed a perfect gentleman, and something of a
+knight-errant as well; but when Gloomy Gus gave vent to his shrill
+morning call he turned in his blankets and muttered. As the dishpan
+yammered and clashed discordantly he shuddered like a craven; and when
+Gus finally kicked open the door he could have cursed like any
+cow-puncher. It was a dreary life he had elected to follow, a life of
+drudgery, hardship, and discomfort, and with no compensating element but
+the danger of getting killed. And all for the sake of a girl who never
+had met him before!</p>
+
+<p>Bowles crawled out very slowly and stood shivering by the fire,
+marveling at the iron endurance of Gloomy Gus, and understanding his
+gloom. Never again, he resolved, as he drank a pint of hot coffee, never
+again would he address Mr. Mosby in aught but terms of respect. A man
+who could stand his life and still wear the mantle of self-restraint was
+worthy of a place among the stoics. And to get up alone&mdash;alone and of
+his own volition&mdash;at three-thirty and four of the morning! It was a task
+to give a Spartan pause and win an enduring fame among the gods. A large
+humility came over Bowles as he contemplated the rough men about him and
+observed how uncomplainingly they accepted their lot. And they had been
+at the work for months and years&mdash;it was the second day for him!</p>
+
+<p>The cook beat on his pan, and at the thought of the long ride before him
+Bowles did his best to eat&mdash;to eat heartily, ravenously, to gorge
+himself full of meat against the hours of hunger to come; and, passing
+up the three-tined steel fork, he went to it with his knife and spoon.</p>
+
+<p>"You make the finest biscuits I have ever eaten, Mr. Mosby," he observed
+by way of apology as he slipped one into his pocket; and the sleep-weary
+eyes of the cook lighted up for a moment before he summoned his cynical
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what they all say&mdash;when they're hungry," he remarked. "Then when
+they've et a plenty they throw 'em in the dirt."</p>
+
+<p>He waved his hand at a circle of white spots that lay just outside the
+firelight, and turned to begin his dishwashing. Then, seeing that Mr.
+Bowles was still interested, he dilated on his troubles.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," he said; "a cowboy is jest naturally wasteful&mdash;if he wasn't,
+he wouldn't be a cowboy. He'll take a whole biscuit and eat half of it
+and throw the other half away. There you see 'em out there, jest like I
+been seein' 'em fer forty years and more. It's in the blood. A cowboy
+wastes his grub, he wastes his terbakker, he wastes his money. He wastes
+cows, and hawses&mdash;an' he wastes his life. I got my opinion of a man that
+will work like a dog fer forty dollars a month. These hyer boys know
+what I think of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>The cowboys grinned sheepishly and backed up nearer the fire. It was
+still too dark to rope, and they were waiting for Henry Lee; and the
+cold starlight made them solemn. When the sun came up and they got a
+horse between their knees they would laugh old Gus to scorn; now they
+listened to him soberly in lieu of sprightlier conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"And me," continued Gloomy Gus, as he sensed the heavy silence, "I work
+harder than any of 'em. The mornin' star don't catch me in bed&mdash;no, sir!
+Not after half-past three. I got to git up then and mix my bread. And
+come night time, after my long day's work, I got to set my dough. But I
+git paid fer it&mdash;eighty dollars a month&mdash;and you can have the job
+to-morrer."</p>
+
+<p>He paused again, as if to emphasize the lack of bidders, and then went
+deftly about his task.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," he said; "you don't see no one strikin' fer the job of cook.
+That's hard work, that is. These boys all want to sit on a hawse and see
+the world go by."</p>
+
+<p>Once more the heavy silence fell upon them, and Brigham picked up a
+towel and began to wipe the dishes.</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' out to-day?" he inquired, as the boys began to straggle toward
+the corral.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the word!" returned the cook. "Dinner at the north well, and
+back ag'in fer supper. Pack up and unpack, and pack ag'in at the well.
+Then cook a dinner and hook up the hawses, and cook some more at the
+home. Ef Henry Lee don't git me a flunky pretty soon I'm shore goin' to
+up and quit."</p>
+
+<p>He glanced significantly at Bowles as he finished this last remark, but
+Brigham shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I seen that Pringle kid come in yisterday," he said. "Mebbe you could
+git to have him."</p>
+
+<p>That closed the conversation, and Bowles moved away. He was sorry for
+Mr. Mosby, very sorry; but not sorry enough to take a job as official
+dishwasher. Somehow all the world seemed to be in a conspiracy to make
+him flunky to the cook.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried over to the corral, where the roping was going on, and as he
+neared the gate he met the boss coming out. On the previous day Mr. Lee
+had seemed a little under the dominance of his feelings, but this
+morning he was strictly business.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles," he said, "I'll keep my word with you and take you on for a
+puncher. Do your work and keep off Dunbar, and I'll try to get along
+with you&mdash;otherwise you get your time. Now come on back and I'll cut you
+out a mount."</p>
+
+<p>He tied his own horse to a post, and swung up on the corral fence.</p>
+
+<p>"You get two gentle horses and five bronks," he continued; "and I'll
+call Wa-ha-lote a bronk."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" began Bowles; but the boss checked him right there.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got nothing to thank me for, young man," he said. "I'd rather
+lose a top hand any time than take on a tenderfoot, so don't think for a
+minute that I'm stuck on you. Passed my word, that's all&mdash;and Wa-ha-lote
+forgot to buck. Now you see that gray over there&mdash;the one with the
+saddle-marks on his back&mdash;that's one of 'em&mdash;he's gentle. See this
+little sorrel, right close&mdash;that's Scrambled Eggs&mdash;he's a bronk. Then
+you can have that red roan over there for a night horse, and I'll cut
+you out some more bronks bymeby. You ride old Gray and the roan for a
+while&mdash;understand? And I employ a twister to break my wild stock, so
+keep off of them bronks&mdash;if&mdash;you&mdash;please."</p>
+
+<p>He added this last as if he really meant it, and left Bowles to wonder
+at his emphasis&mdash;but not for long. The times called for action. He was a
+puncher now, and it was necessary for him to lasso his mount. So,
+shaking out his new rope, which snarled and crawled in a most
+disconcerting fashion, the new cowboy dropped down into the corral,
+while everybody who could conveniently do so stepped up and looked over
+the fence. But Bowles had had a few days' training at the hands of Jim
+Scrimsher, the livery-stable keeper and all-round horse trader and
+confidence man at Chula Vista, and he shook out a fairly good loop.
+Then, swinging it above his head, he advanced upon the gray, who
+promptly put the whole herd between them, and raced along next the
+fence. The roan came along just then and Bowles made a cast at him and
+caught two others, who instantly made away with his rope.</p>
+
+<p>A yell went up from along the top of the fence; and with many shouts of
+encouragement and veiled derision, they threw him a new rope. This was a
+worn one and capable of dexterous handling, and, with a set smile on his
+face, Bowles shook out a big loop and advanced cautiously upon the roan.
+By this time he, too, had read the hypnotic message of the eye, and had
+crowded well in behind the main herd, which was dashing around the
+corral with ever-increasing speed. The slashing rope-work of the old
+hands had already left the horse herd nervous and flighty, and something
+about the way Bowles whirled his wide-flung loop seemed to drive them
+into a frenzy. A shout of warning went up, and then another, and then,
+as Wa-ha-lote made another balk at the gate, Hardy Atkins rushed out
+through the cloud of dirt and signaled him to stop.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want to do?" he yelled. "Break down the fence?"</p>
+
+<p>He edged in on the leaders as he spoke and soon brought them to a halt;
+then, with his eyes on another horse, he stepped in close, dragging his
+loop, until suddenly he whipped it over the old gray's head and jerked
+him out of the herd.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's yore hawse," he said, handing him over the rope's end. "And,
+say, if you can't rope without swingin' a Mother Hubbard, jest let me
+ketch yore hawse!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nawthin'," sneered the bronco-twister, "only it skeers 'em to
+death&mdash;that's all. Old Henry generally gives a man his time fer swingin'
+his loop in the corral."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles followed along after him, flushed and downcast over his mistake;
+and as the others saddled their prancing bronks and went pitching and
+plunging around the horse lot he threw his saddle on the old,
+moss-backed gray and watched them with a wholesome awe. Horse after
+horse, as his rider hooked the stirrup, flew back or kicked like a
+flash. Some bucked the saddles off and had to be mastered by brute
+force. Here it was that the green-eyed Hardy Atkins, that long and
+lissom twister whom he so heartily despised, stood out like a riding
+king among the men. If a horse would not stand, he held it by the ears;
+if it bucked its saddle off, he seized an ear in his teeth, and hung on
+like a bulldog until the girths were cinched; and then, if the rider but
+said the word, he topped it off in his place. And all with such a
+tigerish swing, such a wild and masterful certitude, that even Bowles
+could not but secretly admire him.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearing the first of April, when the wagon went out on the
+round-up, and the boys were topping off their mounts in order to gentle
+them for the spring work. Shrill yells and whoops went up as man after
+man uncocked his bronk; and then, as the procession filed out the gate,
+Hardy Atkins swung up on his own and went whipping and plunging after
+them. This was the big event of the day, and all hands craned their
+necks to view it; but the real spectators were up by the big white
+house, where Dixie Lee and her mother stood watching.</p>
+
+<p>"Good boy, Hardy!" cried Dixie May, waving her hat to flag him. "Stay
+with him, Hardy!" And while the wild brute bucked and grunted beneath
+the steady jab of the spurs his rider raised a slender hand and waved it
+in salute. Bowles came dragging after him, sitting up very straight on
+old Gray; but nobody gave him a gay salute or so much as noticed him
+pass. Big Snake, the outlaw, was sun-fishing and doing buck-jumps, and
+every eye was upon the gallant rider who sat him so limber and
+free&mdash;Hardy Atkins, bronco-twister, and top cowboy at the Bat Wing.</p>
+
+<p>"Pitch, then, you bastard," he was shouting. "Buck, you wild, woolly
+wolf&mdash;I'll put a hat on you!"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles did not know what a "hat" was as he rode along out the gate, but
+when the cattle were thrown together and the wrangler brought up the
+spare horses, he knew. Walking across the brushy flat came Hardy Atkins,
+leading the worn and whip-marked Snake at a slow walk; and as he drew
+near, Bowles saw the "hat," a great, puffed-up swelling, raw and bloody,
+where the spur had jabbed his side. And there was a look in the outlaw's
+haggard eye that reminded him of old Dunbar&mdash;a wild, homicidal stare,
+yet tragic with fear and pain. As he reached the horse herd the twister
+looked back and regarded his mount intently; then very cautiously he
+worked up to his head and caught him by the cheek-strap.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you bite me, you devil," he threatened as the Snake showed all
+his teeth, "or I'll beat yore brains out with this quirt!"</p>
+
+<p>The Big Snake winced and crooked his neck sullenly; then, as the twister
+snapped up the stirrup and uncinched the saddle with his free hand, he
+sighed and hung his head. With a deft jerk the puncher stripped off
+saddle and blanket; he reached up between his ears and laid hold of the
+headstall, then with a heave he tore off the bridle and landed his boot
+in the Snake's ribs.</p>
+
+<p>"Git, you owl-headed old skate!" he yelled; and the Snake cow-kicked at
+him like a flash of light.</p>
+
+<p>"Hah!" laughed the twister, stepping dexterously aside; and, swinging
+the bridle as he ducked, he brought the heavy reins down across his
+mount's rump. Again there was a flash of light as the Snake lashed out
+from behind; and then he limped off to one side, his eyes glowing with
+impotent rage and hate. Bowles looked at him as he lay wearily down in
+the sand, and then at the man who had conquered him, and a glow crept
+into his own eyes&mdash;a glow very much like the Big Snake's. He had entered
+a new world, with a different standard of courage and hardihood, and the
+first look at it frightened and awed him. But though he knew he could
+not meet its standards nor measure up to its tests, he scorned the man
+who could, and hated him for his rude strength&mdash;and his sympathy went
+out to Big Snake, the outlaw.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>REDUCED TO THE RANKS</h3>
+
+
+<p>The last place in the world for a humanitarian is around a cow camp, for
+everything there seems to savor of cruelty and blood. The only
+anti-cruelty-to-animals man who ever made a winning in the cattle
+business was good old Dr. Maverick, of Texas, who, when they made up the
+first brand book, swore he could not bring himself to cut an ear or burn
+a brand and craved the privilege of letting his cattle run unmarked. So,
+when it came to the round-up, the old doctor received his reward, for he
+claimed every maverick in the bunch and took them home for his own. This
+was a long time ago, in the age of myth and fable, and the doctor's herd
+has been sadly decimated since by rustlers and ruthless brand blotchers.
+A brand that can't be burned over is more precious than rubies now; and
+the bigger it is, the better.</p>
+
+<p>The Bat Wing was an old brand, dating back to some Mexican Manuel
+Ortega, or Mariano Ortiz, who had writ his initials large on the left
+hip of his steers, M above O, connected. With years the O had shrunk and
+the M spraddled out until it looked like a winged disk&mdash;and had taken on
+different names: Money-bug, from its resemblance to a dollar on the
+wing; Bat-out-o'-hell, from a similar frontier fancy; until finally it
+settled down to plain Bat Wing. But whatever else happened to the Bat
+Wing brand, the iron never got any smaller; in fact, the reason the M
+grew so big that it flew away with the O was because a calf's hip widens
+out at the top and if the whole space is securely covered there will be
+no room left for illicit alterations.</p>
+
+<p>This is all very interesting and romantic, of course, when taken by
+itself; but nobody stopped to explain it to Bowles, the humanitarian
+cowboy. When the cattle were on the cutting-grounds and the branding was
+about to begin, Henry Lee cast a contemptuous glance at his new hand and
+decided to put him to work.</p>
+
+<p>"Bowles," he said, "you help with the flanking."</p>
+
+<p>So when the first little calf came gamboling in on the line, Bowles
+rushed out and seized the rope. Working down to the calf, he caught it
+by its neck and flank and finally wrestled it to the ground. He was
+casting loose the rope when Buck Buchanan grabbed the calf by the upper
+hind leg, braced his boot against the lower leg, and sat comfortably
+down behind. Then Happy Jack came ramping out with a red-hot stamp-iron
+and slapped it against the tender hide.</p>
+
+<p>"Baaa!" blatted the little calf, rolling its eyes until they showed the
+whites. "Baaa!" And then, before it knew what was happening, Hardy
+Atkins knelt roughly on its neck, grabbed its left ear, and cut away
+half of it at a single stroke of the knife. "Baaa!" bellowed the calf,
+curling up its tail; and as the blood trickled forth Bowles felt himself
+grow sick and faint.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold his head up!" directed Atkins; and then, with an impatient yank,
+he twitched up the second ear and cut a swallow-fork. The calf writhed
+and struggled to escape, and as he fought against it Bowles caught the
+stench of burning hair. Turning, he discovered Happy Jack still bearing
+down on the hot iron and searing it deep into the flesh. That finished
+Bowles, and he sank back on the ground, turning his victim loose.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to hold their heads up," remarked Buck Buchanan, and Bowles
+nodded and answered faintly. What he really wanted was a chance to guard
+the herd; but orders were orders with Henry Lee, and if he failed to do
+his work he was fired. Another calf came in&mdash;a big, lusty yearling&mdash;and
+Buck made a motion with his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Ketch that one," he directed in a fatherly tone of voice, and Bowles
+staggered out to do or die. But a yearling calf can be a very
+obstreperous brute on occasion, and this one was hot from his run.
+Within a minute after he had grappled with it all thought of pity had
+died out in Bowles' breast. First he caught the bull calf by the neck
+and flank and tried to pull it over; then, as it fought against him and
+trampled on his feet, he seized its further legs and tried to lift them
+up; failing in this, he laid hold of it in a frenzy and tried to throw
+it by main strength.</p>
+
+<p>"Git yore knees under him," suggested Buck from the middle distance.
+Then, after another period of waiting, he slouched ponderously out and
+shoved him aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me at 'im," he said. "You're keepin' Bill waitin' for his rope."</p>
+
+<p>He felt of the calf for a minute and pushed him to make him change his
+feet; then, as the yearling started to step, he boosted him with his
+knees, heaved him into the air, and slammed him down on his side. It was
+a man's job, and difficult for the best of them, but Bowles didn't know
+that. All he knew was that the boss was watching him, over there by the
+fire where he was keeping tally on the brands, and thinking what a
+tenderfoot he was. And he was right&mdash;Bowles conceded it. He could not
+catch his horse, he could not ride a bronk, he could not even throw a
+calf or lift it off the ground. And his back ached, awfully.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long morning for Mr. Bowles, packed with misery and hopeless
+struggling, like a nightmare without end. They say that in the short
+time between the instant a man starts falling out of bed and the moment
+he hits the floor, he can pass through a very inferno of dreams, passed
+down from our tree-living ancestors and striking terror to the
+heart&mdash;and yet he generally wakes up before he lands. If he did not, so
+the old nurses say, he would surely, surely die. The jagged rocks that
+threatened him in his dream would pierce his quivering body and he would
+be found dead on the floor. The coroner would call it heart-failure, of
+course; and that was what threatened Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>He was saved by a sound he had cursed that very morning&mdash;Gloomy Gus
+beating on his dishpan! Packing all his kit into the chuck-wagon, and
+throwing on a few sticks of wood, the cook had struck out through the
+dog towns and across the brushy flats and set up his fire irons by the
+side of a man-made lake. There he had gone busily about his task without
+waiting for the herd to come in; and just as Bowles was dropping dead,
+the dinner-call saved his life.</p>
+
+<p>It had been a bad dream, but, thank Heaven, he had waked up before he
+struck. A pint of scalding coffee, black and bitter from much boiling,
+and he was able to look about; and as he disposed of a couple of
+beefsteaks and dipped his biscuits in the grease, the weak place in his
+middle seemed comforted; and by the time he got around to the "fruit"
+and syrup he felt almost like a man again. Such jests as had been passed
+upon his condition had fallen upon unhearing ears, but now that he was
+brought back to health and strength he was able to smile grimly at his
+appearance as mirrored in the honest lake.</p>
+
+<p>His face, which he had neglected to wash before eating, was crusted with
+sweat and dirt and spotted with gouts of blood; his hair was matted and
+dust-powdered; and in the bloodshot and haggard orbs that gazed up at
+him from the placid depths he saw a look that made him start. It was a
+cruel, vindictive look, almost inhuman in its intensity; and it came
+from flanking bull calves. He looked down at his hands, all swollen and
+crabbed from clutching, and saw that they were caked with blood. His
+shirt, too, and his trim-fitting trousers were dirty and spattered with
+gore. In fact&mdash;and here was where the grim smile came in&mdash;he could
+hardly be told from a real cowboy!</p>
+
+<p>After dinner the cutting and branding went on as before, but with this
+important difference&mdash;Bowles flanked only his share of the calves. There
+were two sets of flankers, two hot-iron men, and two ear-markers, and
+the calves came up as they were caught. A really ambitious flanker, out
+for experience, could get almost all the calves; but the only ones that
+Bowles ran after now were the ones that were easy to throw. If a
+yearling came dancing up on a rope, he stepped on his own foot and let
+the other man beat him to it&mdash;either that or turned him over to Buck. It
+was quick work; but Bowles had a college education&mdash;he had been only six
+hours a cowboy when he learned to malinger on the job.</p>
+
+<p>As for the rest of the gang, inured as they were to hard labor, the
+branding was no more than a picnic for them. They found time to take
+chews of tobacco, tell stories, and watch all the roping; and if any
+calf turned out to be too big for flanking they grabbed him by the neck
+and made him run, and bulldogged him, "California fashion." Happy Jack
+was best at that, and several times in a fit of emulation he shoved some
+puncher aside and showed him how it ought to be done&mdash;but never for
+Bowles. It was strange how carefully they all avoided him&mdash;never looking
+at him, rarely addressing him, and answering his inquiries with a word.
+He was an alien, a stranger among them, and&mdash;slowly the truth was borne
+in on him&mdash;an inferior.</p>
+
+<p>From the start Bowles had taken it for granted that they were abashed,
+tongue-tied by his obvious education, and awed by his gentlemanly
+bearing. But now they would not so much as laugh at him, lest it
+encourage him to familiarity. Never for a minute did they allow him to
+presume on their sufferance, and his remarks fell dead and flat. Even
+Henry Lee, who had the bearing and spoke the language of a gentleman,
+refused to encourage him by a word; and at last he retired within
+himself, and saved his breath for flanking and his wits for dodging
+work.</p>
+
+<p>If a cowboy never soldiered on the job he would be dead before it came
+pay-day; but there are certain tasks which cannot be slighted, and one
+of these is bringing home the herd. After the day's branding the calves
+are cut into "ones" and "twos," and while the rest of the outfit troops
+gaily homeward somebody must stay behind and bring up the cut. One of
+them must be a cowman, for trailing is an art in itself, but the others
+are likely to be dubs. Certainly no boss would penalize his best hands
+and most willing workers by giving them such a task; and so, when the
+cutting was over and Henry Lee looked around for a poor hand, or one who
+had been soldiering on the job, he picked Bowles on both counts.</p>
+
+<p>"Bowles," he said, "you help Brigham bring up those twos!" And that was
+all there was to it. But to Brigham he spoke differently. It was "Brig,"
+with him; and instead of an order it was a request.</p>
+
+<p>"Brig," he said, "I'll ask you to take charge of the twos. Drive 'em
+easy and put 'em in the north pasture."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, sir," answered Brigham in a friendly, off-hand way, and then
+the drive began. Mounted upon a rough-coated bronk that fought his bit
+constantly yet responded to every touch of rein or spur, the burly
+puncher rode back and forth, from the rear to the flank, and then up
+near the point; and when he had them strung out to suit him he traveled
+along on one side, while Bowles brought up the rear. It was weary work,
+after the long day of flanking, and as the weaker ones began to get
+footsore they fell back to the drag and more than doubled his labors. At
+times Brigham Clark dropped back and strung them out for him again; but
+he said nothing, chewing placidly on his tobacco and giving all his
+thought to the cattle. Still the drag increased, and as they began to
+lag behind, Bowles let down his rope and lashed them with the loop. It
+was then that Brigham Clark spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't do no good to whip 'em," he remarked, falling back to string them
+out. "They'll travel as fast as the leaders&mdash;jest let 'em go."</p>
+
+<p>So Bowles put up his rope and let them go, and soon they fell farther
+behind; but about the time he was preparing to whip them anyway, the
+cowman dropped back from the flank.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, that's the way to handle cattle," he said, nodding at the plodding
+line. "String 'em out and crowd the leaders&mdash;the drag will take care of
+itself."</p>
+
+<p>At that he was gone again; and for an hour or more he rode tirelessly up
+and down the side, filling up every hole and gap and shoving the leaders
+ahead. The cottonwoods of the home ranch showed green against the hills,
+and the end of their drive was in sight, when suddenly Brigham held up
+his hand to stop.</p>
+
+<p>"Let 'em feed a while," he said, as Bowles rode up to inquire. "The drag
+is gittin' weak." Then he sat silent on his rough-haired bronk, his
+inscrutable eyes gazing dully over the plain to the south, and Bowles
+dropped wearily off his horse and stretched himself out on the ground.
+Half an hour afterward he roused up with a start just as Dixie Lee,
+mounted on a long, rangy bay, came galloping up the road. Her eyes were
+very bright, and her cheeks were flushed from riding against the wind,
+and as she reined her horse in with a jerk her hair framed her face like
+a halo. But she did not see Bowles, though he stood up and took off his
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Brig," she called. "Watching 'em pick the flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm," answered Brigham, grinning amiably. "Watchin' 'em pluck the
+blossoms. What's goin' on down below now? Seen you go down there several
+times."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're still keeping track of me, are you?" queried Dixie Lee
+gaily. "Well, you want to look out, Brigham&mdash;I'm getting awfully
+interested in a young Texican down there. He's got a nice farm,
+too&mdash;hundred and sixty acres!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" agreed Brigham. "All covered with loco weed and this nice white
+stuff!"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded at the glistening alkali along the flat, and his eyes twinkled
+with furtive humor as Dixie Lee raised her quirt.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Brigham," she chided, "I believe you're jealous!" She leaned
+forward as she spoke, and the bay broke into a gallop, while Dixie sent
+a laugh down the wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Heh, heh, heh," chuckled Brigham, reaching into his vest for a
+cigarette paper. "That's Dix, all right. Don't you know, stranger," he
+went on as he rolled himself a smoke, "that's the finest gal in Arizona.
+Good folks an' all that, but nothin' stuck up about her. Heh, heh,
+mighty nigh ast her to marry me one time, but couldn't quite cut
+it&mdash;she's been joshin' me ever since. Got 'em all comin' and won't have
+none of 'em. Oh, hookey, wisht I wasn't a common, ornery cow-punch!"</p>
+
+<p>He paused and smoked a while, still gazing at the streak of dust.</p>
+
+<p>"Good rider, too," he observed; "beat most of the boys. I knowed her
+four miles away by section lines."</p>
+
+<p>Once more he paused, and Bowles preserved his Sphinx-like silence. He
+was learning the customs of the country fast.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't have any like her back where you come from, I reckon," suggested
+Brigham, his eyes shining with local pride; and Bowles sadly shook his
+head. No, they did not&mdash;there was no one like Dixie Lee.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FIRST SMILE</h3>
+
+
+<p>The next three days were one long, aching agony for Bowles. He carried a
+little water for Gloomy Gus, but stubbornly refused the job of flunky.
+He helped the horse wrangler&mdash;a wild-eyed youth who could pop a rope
+like a pistol-shot and yell like a murdering Apache&mdash;but as resolutely
+refused the job of assistant. He had been taken on as a cowboy, and a
+cowboy he tried to be, though every nerve and muscle called a halt. From
+the first morning, when they sent him out in the dark to wrangle the
+horse pasture, to the third evening, when he crawled wearily into an old
+"bed" that he had picked up, his life was a prolonged succession of
+accidents, mistakes, and awkward happenings; yet he stayed with it,
+bull-headed and determined, until Henry Lee grew tired of hazing him and
+put him on the day-herd to get healed up.</p>
+
+<p>There was very little left of the lily-white Mr. Bowles when the ordeal
+came to an end. His hands that had been so trim and slender were swelled
+up too big for his gloves. The outside was raw with sunburn and
+wind-chap and the inside was blistered and rope-worn. His lips had
+cracked wide open from the dry north wind, and his face was beginning to
+peel like a snake. Also his arms had been nearly jerked from the sockets
+by a horse he had tried to hold, and a calf had kicked him in the leg
+while he was trying to bulldog it at the branding. Like the cowboy in
+the ballad, "he was busted from his somber to his heel," but he had
+managed to come through alive. And now, as a reward for his prowess and
+daring, he was set to mind the day-herd.</p>
+
+<p>Grass was short in the Bat Wing pastures, and every day brought in new
+herds of dogies to be held for the April shipping; so, just to keep all
+hands busy and save a little feed, Henry Lee turned his gentle cattle
+out on to the prairie to rustle what provender they could. Now riding
+day-herd is not supposed to be a very high-grade or desirable
+occupation, and good punchers have been known to quit a boss who put
+them at it; but Bowles was led to believe that it was a post of honor.
+Awful stories of cowboys who had gone to sleep on guard were told by the
+fire at night, and the danger from sudden stampedes was played up to the
+skies. The monotony of the job was admitted, but the responsibility was
+great. So Bowles accepted the position gladly, and the round-up went on
+unimpeded.</p>
+
+<p>Lolling in the shade of his horse or sitting with his back to the dry
+wind, Bowles watched them "pluck the blossoms" while he doctored his
+numerous wounds, meanwhile falling into lovelorn reveries on the subject
+of Dixie Lee. It was humiliating, in a way, to be reduced to the ranks;
+to be compelled to wait on her pleasure, and court her from afar; but
+something told him that Dixie thought of him even though she passed him
+by; and just to be one of her lovers, to be allowed to worship with the
+rest&mdash;that was enough to bear him up and give him courage to wait. And
+either in the end she would speak to him and take him back into her
+life, or he would depart in silence to hide from her laughing eyes. The
+game of love was new to Bowles and he knew little of its stealth and
+wiles; just to be near her was all he knew, and the future must solve
+the rest. So, like a questing knight, nursing his hurts after his first
+combat, he sat out on the boundless prairie and communed with his own
+sad heart.</p>
+
+<p>Across the herd from him a battered old-time cowboy sat, crooked-legged,
+on his horse. On the day before a bronk had thrown him by treachery and
+kicked him as he dragged&mdash;even turned around and jumped on him and
+stamped him in the face. A great bruise, red and raw, ran up from his
+brows to his bald-spot where the iron shoe had struck; but still the
+old-timer was content.</p>
+
+<p>"A cowboy don't need no haid above his eyebrows, nohow," he had said.
+"Jest think if he had hit me on the jaw!" Yes, indeed, but what if he
+had hit him in the temple or trampled him to death! Or suppose, just for
+instance, that Mr. Bowles, of New York, had been on the bronk instead of
+Uncle Joe, the veteran&mdash;would he have had sense enough to get his foot
+out of the stirrup? That was the trouble with standing day-herd&mdash;it gave
+the imagination a chance to work.</p>
+
+<p>Bowles looked out over the plain again and noticed every little
+thing&mdash;the rattleweed, planted so regularly on the sandy flat; the
+dogholes, each with its high-topped mound to keep out the rain and
+floods; the black line of mesquite brush against the distant hills; the
+band of yuccas along their flanks; and then the soft, moulded summits,
+now green, now yellow, now creamy white as shrubs and bushes and bunch
+grass caught the light. It was very beautiful, but lonely. Yes, it
+lacked color&mdash;a vigorous girlish figure in the foreground to give it the
+last poetic touch.</p>
+
+<p>The only men who can stand the monotony of day-herding are those who are
+not overburdened with brains, and so have the ability to turn off the
+thinking-machine entirely until they need it again. Smoking helps, and
+singing long-drawn songs; but Bowles turned back to Wordsworth, the poet
+of nature. Stray snatches of poems and sonnets rose in his mind, and he
+tried to piece out the rest; then he gazed at the quivering mirage, the
+plain, the straying cattle, and wondered how Wordsworth would see it. He
+was engaged in this peaceful occupation when, on the second day, he
+noted a moving figure, far away; dreamily he watched it as it emerged
+from the barbed-wire lanes of the nesters, and then, like a flash, the
+words of Brigham came back to him: "I knowed her four miles away by
+section lines." It was Dixie Lee, and she was coming his way!</p>
+
+<p>There were three other worthless cowboys like himself on the day-herd,
+and they had seen her already. Like Brigham, they knew her by the way
+she rode, miles and miles away. Steadily she pounded along, keeping the
+rangy bay at an even lope, and then she turned toward the ranch. The
+long wire fence of the horse pasture had thrown her from her course, but
+now she was on the barren prairie and could skirt the north fence home.
+A series of muttered comments marked this sudden turn to the west, and
+the tall, cigarette-smoking youth who had been rubbing the sleep from
+his eyes lopped down beneath his salt-bush again. But he had returned to
+Morpheus too soon, for almost immediately after he had laid his hat over
+his eyes the distant rider changed her course, and the boys held up
+their hands for silence. Dixie Lee was going to make them a visit, after
+all, and they would let her catch him asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Swiftly the tireless bay came loping across the flats, winding in and
+out to dodge the dog towns, and soon the queen of the cowboys was up to
+the edge of the herd.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Uncle Joe!" she hailed, riding over toward the old-timer. "How's
+your head?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Miss Dix," replied the puncher amiably. "Cain't hurt a
+cowboy in the haid, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but you can spoil his looks, Uncle," retorted Dixie May playfully.
+"You want to remember that&mdash;I heard a lady down here inquiring for you
+mighty special. What's the matter with Slim over there?"</p>
+
+<p>A whoop went up at this, and the sleeper sat up guiltily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, him?" queried Uncle Joe, speaking loud so that all could hear.
+"W'y, kinder overcome by the heat, I reckon. He gits took that way every
+once in a while."</p>
+
+<p>"Ever since he begin settin' up with that nester girl!" put in the other
+day-herder, with a guffaw; and Dixie May began to chuckle with laughter
+as she rode around the herd.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's too bad about him," she called back. "I'll have to go over
+there and see if he's likely to die."</p>
+
+<p>It took her but a moment to diagnose the sad case of Slim, and then the
+other cowboy had his call from the consulting physician. Bowles was the
+last man on the circuit, but he did not step out and bow. He did not
+expect a visit&mdash;and, besides, something told him she did not approve of
+it. So he stood quietly by his horse, and only his eyes followed her as
+she bore down on him, her head turned back to fling some gay retort and
+her horse falling into his stride. She rode to the right of him, and as
+she faced about and met his glance she stared, as if surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, hello there, cowboy!" she challenged bluntly; and then, with a
+smile on her face, she went galloping on toward the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody heard her speak but Bowles; and he, poor, unsophisticated man,
+was more puzzled than enlightened by her remarks. Of one thing he was
+sure&mdash;she had lowered her voice on purpose, and her words were for him
+alone. But her smile&mdash;was it one of derision, or a token of forgiveness
+and regard? And her secret greeting&mdash;was it an accident, or was she
+ashamed of his friendship? Perhaps she had weighty reasons for keeping
+their acquaintance unknown. Somehow, that thought appealed to him above
+the rest. Perhaps she knew more than he did of the dangers which
+surrounded him&mdash;from Hardy Atkins, or some other jealous suitor, to whom
+a single smile for him might be the signal for reprisal. They
+might&mdash;why, there were a thousand things they might do if they knew what
+was in his heart! Bowles ran it all over in his mind: her sudden turning
+upon him as they approached the Chula Vista hotel; her haughty
+repudiation of him when he met her at the big house; and now this secret
+greeting, so carelessly given, yet so fraught with hidden meaning.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, hello there, cowboy!" she had said. And she appeared surprised, as
+if she had not expected to see him in the guise of an ordinary puncher.
+She had smiled, too; but&mdash;well, a little too broadly. Of course, out in
+the West&mdash;but, even then, it was a little broad.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>CONEY ISLAND</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is wonderful how much a smile, or even a grin, will do for a
+disconsolate lover. Bowles woke suddenly to the beauties of nature and
+the wild joy of living; and that evening, instead of dropping into his
+blankets like a dead man, he tarried by the fire. A chill wind swept in
+from the frigid north, and the smoke guttered and flurried from the
+burning logs; but the cowboys sat about in their shirt-sleeves and
+blinked patiently when they caught the smoke. Inside the bunk-house the
+noise of the perpetual pitch game told where battles were being lost and
+won, a secret understanding that every game was worth a quarter on
+pay-day being the contributing cause for the excitement, since Henry Lee
+allowed no gambling among his punchers. But outside everybody was either
+broke or in the hole, and so there was nothing but peace and amity and
+long-winded arguments.</p>
+
+<p>The talk for the moment was centered upon "ring-tail" in horses, a
+subject upon which Brigham Clark claimed to be an authority, although
+Bowles had never even heard of it before.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," asserted Brigham, addressing the company at large; "you show
+me a ring-tailed hawse, and I'll show you a hawse with weak kidneys,
+every time. Now, I don't say how he gits them weak kidneys,
+y'understand; he may git 'em from bein' rode too young, the way Uncle
+Joe claims; or he may git 'em from drinkin' bad water, like folks; or he
+may jest be born that way. But that ain't the point&mdash;when you take a
+nice young hawse and turn him up a hill, and he quits and goes to
+ringin' his tail around&mdash;that hawse is weak, I say, or he wouldn't quit.
+A ring-tailed hawse is a weak hawse, and you might jest as well give 'im
+to the kids to play with&mdash;he'll never be no good fer a cow-pony."</p>
+
+<p>Coming as this did at the end of a long and technical argument, it was
+allowed to pass by the company. A quiet fell, and three or four men to
+leeward got up to avoid the smoke; but all the time Brigham Clark sat on
+the box he had captured, his big black hat pushed back on his head, his
+hand held out to the fire, and his shrewd eyes twinkling as he gazed
+down into the flames. Then he shook with silent laughter, and they knew
+he was off on another one.</p>
+
+<p>"Heh, heh, heh!" he chuckled. "Speakin' of ring-tails reminds me of a
+ring-tailed monkey I used to have to take care of when I was on the
+road. He was the orneriest little brat you ever see in yore life&mdash;a
+little, spider-legged proposition, with a long, limber tail, and big
+eyes that he'd always be winkin' and a-blinkin' while he was figurin'
+out some new kind of devilment&mdash;and all the time he'd be sneezin' and
+cuddlin' and snugglin' up ag'inst you like he loved you more'n his
+mammy. The boss's wife kept the little snifter fer company-like, and
+she'd pet and coddle and talk foolish to 'im until the boss would nigh
+have a fit. Jest like when a woman keeps a lap-dog, I reckon&mdash;kinder
+makes a man want to kill 'im, to keep her from muchin' 'im all the time.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this here lady was shore foolish about that monkey, and every
+mornin' when we were in a town I had to take 'im out fer a walk.
+Leastways, somebody had to do it; and rather than not see the town at
+all I'd take him along under my arm. If I'd had a hand-organ I'd shore
+made a lot of money that trip&mdash;but I was thinkin' about the time I took
+the ring out of his tail. Every time we'd come to a tree, or a
+fire-escape, or something like that, the little devil would begin to
+hook up at it with his tail; and this time I'm speakin' of we was goin'
+through a little park, and I'm a son-of-a-gun if he didn't git away on
+me. Jest reached out with his tail where it was hangin' down behind, and
+grabbed a limb, and slipped the collar on me.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir! And then he begun doin' circus stunts through them trees.
+First he'd climb up one, and then another, and then he hooked on to a
+fire-escape, and I chased him clean over a house. Policeman came along
+and wanted to arrest me, but I give 'im a talk and kept travelin',
+because I knew if I didn't ketch that monkey I didn't need to go back to
+the tent. Well, I chased him till my tongue hung out, but about the time
+I'd reach out to ketch 'im he'd swing off with his tail and git into the
+next tree; so I went over to a fruit store and tried to ketch 'im with
+bananas. Last chance I had, and I was gittin' pretty mad. All the kids
+was there to tease me, the policeman was tellin' me to move on&mdash;and that
+cussed monkey kept hangin' down by his tail and makin' faces at me,
+until, by grab, I reached down and took up a rock.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, hyer,' I says, holdin' up the banana, 'you'd better come down
+before I git hot and soak you with this,' and I showed him the size of
+that pavin' stone.</p>
+
+<p>"'Etchee-etchee-etchee!' he says, swingin' up for a limb; and then I let
+'im have it. They wasn't any ring in his tail when he come down, believe
+me; and when I showed the remains to the missus she like to tore my hair
+out. Boss he fired me&mdash;mad as the devil&mdash;then when she wasn't lookin' he
+slipped me a twenty, and told me to go back to Coney. There was a happy
+man, fellers, but he had to let on different&mdash;married, you know. So I
+took the twenty and went back to old Coney, where they shoot the chutes
+and loop the loops, and any man that's got a dime is as rich as John G.
+Rockefeller. Big doin's back there, fellers&mdash;you don't know what you're
+missin'."</p>
+
+<p>An abashed silence followed this remark, calculated as it was to reduce
+his hearers to a proper state of humility; and then, to add to its
+effectiveness, the Odysseus of the cow camps turned to Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't that so, stranger?" he said; and Bowles thought he detected a
+twinkle in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" he replied. "There's no place in the world like Coney
+Island. Changing very rapidly, too. Have you been there lately? That
+Dreamland is wonderful, isn't it? And Luna Park&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hah!" exclaimed Brigham, slapping his leg. "That's the place! Loony
+Park! Ain't that the craziest place you ever see? Everything
+upside-down, topsy-turvy&mdash;guess I never told you boys about that. Didn't
+dare to, by grab&mdash;not till this gentleman come along to back me up!"</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at Bowles significantly and waited for the questions.</p>
+
+<p>"What does she look like, Brig?" inquired Bar Seven, the stray man.
+"Pretty fancy, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy!" repeated Brigham, with royal insolence. "Well, believe me,
+goin' through this Loony Park would make Tucson look like a cow camp!
+She's shore elegant&mdash;silver and gold, and big barroom looking-glasses
+everywhere&mdash;only everything is upside-down. You go into the house
+through the chimney, walk around on the ceilin' and there's all the
+tables and chairs stuck up on the top. Big chandeliers standin' straight
+up from the floor, and all the pictures hangin' wrong side to on the
+walls. Stairs is all built backwards, and when you're half way up, if
+you look like a Rube, they'll straighten 'em out like a flat board and
+shoot you into the attic. Talk about crazy&mdash;w'y, they's been a feller
+walked through this Loony Park and never knowed straight up afterwards.
+It's shore wonderful, ain't it, pardner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" answered Bowles suavely; and, seeing that he could be
+relied upon, Brigham Clark cut loose with another one.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't that so, mister?" he inquired at the end; and Bowles, who saw a
+chance for revenge, assured the gawking cowboys that it was. These were
+the boys who had been gloating over him for a week and more, but now it
+was his turn.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," he replied, with a blasé, worldly-wise air; "quite a
+common occurrence, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>At this the ready Brigham took fresh courage, and his little eyes
+twinkled with mischief.</p>
+
+<p>"Friend," he said, "if it's none of my business, of course you'll let me
+know, but you've been around a little, haven't you? Seen the world,
+mebbe? Well now, what's the wonderfulest thing you ever see?"</p>
+
+<p>A flush of pleasure mantled Bowles' sunburned face, for it was the first
+time he had been addressed as man to man since he struck the Bat Wing;
+but he did not lose the point&mdash;Brigham had a bigger story to bring out
+and he was waiting for a lead.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "I <i>have</i> seen a good many wonderful exhibitions, but
+the one that I think of at this moment as the most striking was Selim,
+the diving horse. You remember him, I guess&mdash;out at Coney Island. He was
+a beautiful horse, wasn't he? Snowy white, with a long, flowing mane,
+and intelligent as a human. He mounted to a platform forty-five feet
+high and leaped off into a pool of water. That was the most wonderful
+thing I ever saw, because he did it all by himself&mdash;climbed up to the
+platform, stepped out to the diving-place, and jumped off when his
+master said the word. Yes, that was certainly wonderful."</p>
+
+<p>"You bet!" assented Brig, regarding him with admiring eyes; but the
+others were not so easily satisfied. That was one thing they claimed to
+be up on&mdash;horses&mdash;and they looked the solemn stranger over dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"How high did you say that platform was?" inquired Uncle Joe cautiously.
+"Forty-five&mdash;well, that was shore high. I cain't hardly git my hawse to
+cross the crick."</p>
+
+<p>"How deep was that pool?" spoke up Bar Seven, the stray man. "Ten foot?
+Huh! Say, boys, this reminds me of that divin' story of Brig's!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's the matter with that divin' story of mine?" demanded
+Brigham orgulously. "You're behind the times, Bar Seven. While you was
+on yore way this gentleman come into camp, and he's seen that done
+himself. What do you know about it, anyhow&mdash;spent all yore life punchin'
+cows and eatin' sand&mdash;what do you know about divin', anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they's one thing I do know," retorted Bar Seven, "and that's
+hawses. I been with hawses all my life, and you cain't tell me about no
+hawse divin'&mdash;stands to reason he'd hit the bottom and break his neck,
+anyway!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I would better explain," broke in Bowles politely. "When the
+horse leaves the platform he slides down an inclined chute, below which
+is hung a heavily padded board. As the horse slips off he naturally
+kicks and struggles, and his feet, flying out behind, strike the padded
+board so that, while he leaps off headforemost, he rights himself in the
+air and falls into the pool feet first. Of course, forty-five feet is
+quite a distance, but he probably never goes to the bottom at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's all right," admitted Bar Seven. "I don't know about
+that&mdash;but tell me this, stranger: How does the man git that hawse to
+climb up there and take the jump? Tell me that, and I'll believe
+anything!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly," said Bowles. "At the time of which I speak, a young
+girl rode on his back when he made the plunge&mdash;just to make it more
+exciting, you know&mdash;but I watched the man quite closely, and really it
+was very interesting. First the girl went up the long incline, which had
+a railing and was provided with cleats, of course. Then the trainer
+brought Selim out and gave him a handful of sugar from his pocket,
+rubbing his head and talking to him while he was begging for more, until
+he had him up to the chute. There he stripped the halter off and spoke
+to him, and the horse started up by himself, he was so eager for the
+reward. At the top the girl mounted him and turned him down the
+diving-chute; and, don't you know, the first thing he did when he got to
+land was to trot back and get his sugar!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sugar!" cried Bar Seven, in disgust; but somehow the
+circumstantiality of the narrative seemed to carry conviction with the
+others, and he found himself alone.</p>
+
+<p>"What breed of hawse was that?" inquired Uncle Joe, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"A pure-blooded Arabian," answered Bowles; "supposed to be the most
+intelligent horses in the world. The Arabians, you know, keep their
+horses about their tents and raise them as if they were children,
+teaching them to understand the human voice and to answer like a dog."</p>
+
+<p>"W'y, sure!" broke in Brigham, artfully taking the lead again. "Don't
+you fellers remember that story in the school book about Ali Ben Hassan,
+or whatever his name was, that was wounded in a battle and his hawse
+picked him up by his belt and packed him back to his tent? I tell you,
+them A-rabs are a pretty smooth bunch of <i>hombres</i>. They not only savvy
+hawses from the ground up but they're the finest jugglers and
+strong-armed men that the world has ever seen. I remember back at Coney
+they was three brothers that did sech tricks you couldn't hardly believe
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"They was called the Hassan brothers&mdash;all A-rabs is either named Hassan
+or A-li&mdash;and the oldest one was a balancer. That feller could balance a
+peacock feather on his nose&mdash;throw a flip-flap clean over it, and come
+up with it still on his nose&mdash;but that was jest fer a starter. His big
+stunt was balancin' clay pipes. He'd take a hundred and forty-four
+long-handled pipes, balance 'em one on top of the other, and then skip
+up to the top and set there while he took a smoke."</p>
+
+<p>"What! One on top of the other?" demanded Bar Seven incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, no, you bone head!" replied Brigham impatiently. "What d'ye
+think&mdash;would he pile 'em up a hundred foot high? He made 'em into a kind
+of pyramid-like&mdash;but he was nothin' to his younger brother. That feller
+was a rope-sharp. You punchers think you can twirl the rope some, but
+you're back in the calf corral alongside of him. He could throw a loop
+out on the floor, and send it quilin' around like a snake, hoppin' over
+chairs and tables like a trained dog, and then have it come back and
+hog-tie 'im at one lick, so that an expert couldn't unfasten the knots
+in half an hour. But that was jest good rope work with him; his big play
+come at the end when he tied a twenty-pound weight at the end of it and
+began to swing it round. By Joe, that was great! And then, right at the
+end, when he pulled his big stuff, he heaved that weight forty foot into
+the air, clum up the rope and set down on top of it smokin' his cigar!
+Now, by grab, can you beat that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Kin we beat it?" echoed Bar Seven and the bunch. "Kin we believe
+it&mdash;that's the point!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's the matter with it?" demanded Brigham irritably. "Seems
+like every time I tell you cotton-pickers anythin' you up an' call me a
+liar. What's the matter, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" yelled Bar Seven, raising his voice above the rest.
+"W'y, you ignorant devil, how could the feller set on the weight when it
+was only throwed up in the air?"</p>
+
+<p>A chorus of other demands followed, but Brigham only sat on his box,
+smiling easily.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, what do you take me for?" he inquired, gazing about him pityingly.
+"If I knowed how that A-rab did that rope-work, d'ye think I'd be
+punchin' cows? Not fer me&mdash;I'd be drawin' a thousand dollars a week back
+at Coney. Of co'se I can't say how it was done&mdash;no more than you
+can&mdash;but that's what makes the show! If the people knowed, they wouldn't
+come no more! Ain't that so, pardner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"W'y sure!" went on Brigham. "Anybody that knows anythin' about the show
+business knows that. No matter how good a stunt is, it's got to be
+mysterious or the people won't pay to see it. Either that, or it's got
+to be feats of strength and darin'. Now this youngest Hassan brother was
+a strong-armed man. He'd wrap a piece of chain around his arm, tighten
+up his muscle and <i>pop!</i> it'd break right square in two. Same thing with
+his chest&mdash;he'd wrap a loggin' chain around his breast, suck in his
+breast, and snap it like a thread. You've seen fellers like that,
+haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" said Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;all right!" continued Brigham apologetically. "Seems like the
+simplest thing I tell these fellers some rabbit-twister from Texas up
+and contradicts me. Well, this youngest brother had a pretty good stunt
+to end up with&mdash;nothin' flashy, of co'se, but pretty good fer a kid. He
+was powerful strong in the right arm and he'd hold it out like
+this"&mdash;Brigham held out his brawny arm&mdash;"and then he'd muscle up, real
+slow-like, and then, by grab, he'd raise himself right up, and come down
+over, and set right down on that thumb!"</p>
+
+<p>He elevated his thumb as he spoke, and the cowboys gazed at it as if
+hypnotized. Then Bar Seven rose up slowly and, walking over to the
+defenseless Brigham, mashed his hat down over his eyes at a single blow.</p>
+
+<p>"Brig," he said, his voice trembling with conviction, "you're a
+dad-burned liar!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>PROMOTED</h3>
+
+
+<p>There was quite a little excitement in the bunk-house that night, and
+when it was at its height Brigham Clark came tottering out with his bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, where's that friend of mine&mdash;that Coney Island feller?" he
+inquired, addressing the recumbent forms of men as he scouted along the
+wagon-shed. "I'm skeered to sleep in the same house with them
+cotton-pickers and old Bar Seven&mdash;they might rise up in the night and
+throw me into the hawse-trough. Huh? Oh, that's him over there, hey?
+Well, so long, fellers&mdash;kinder cold out hyer, ain't it? But I cain't
+sleep in that bunk-house no more&mdash;them fellers, they doubt my veracity!"</p>
+
+<p>He was still chuckling with subdued laughter as he dropped his bed down
+in a far corner beside Bowles; but nothing was said until he had spread
+his "tarp" and blankets and crept in out of the cold. Then he laughed
+again, quivering until the earth seemed to shake with his contagious
+merriment.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, pardner," he said, "you're all right. We capped 'em in on that
+proper, and no mistake. Did you see old Bar Seven's jaw drop when he saw
+how he was bit? I'll have that on him for many a long day now, and it'll
+shore cost him the drinks when we git to town next month. Gittin' too
+lively for me over in the bunk-house, so I thought I'd come out here
+with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" responded Bowles, who had secretly been lonely for company.
+"It's rather cold out here, but the air is better."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and the company," added Brigham meaningly. "Ain't these Texicans
+the ignorantest bunch? W'y, them fellers don't know <i>nothin'</i> till they
+see you laugh! I could've got away with that strong-arm business if I
+could've kept my face straight, but old Bar Seven was too many fer me&mdash;I
+jest had to snicker or I'd bust! Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!"</p>
+
+<p>"There was one thing which kind of puzzled me, though," observed Bowles.
+"Would you mind telling me where you got that absurd idea of the three
+Hassan brothers?"</p>
+
+<p>"W'y, sure not," giggled Brigham, creeping closer and lowering his
+voice. "Don't tell anybody, but I got it off a drummer in the
+smokin'-car when I was comin' back from the Fair in Ph&oelig;nix. The way
+he told it, there was an Englishman and a Frenchman and an Irishman
+talkin' together, each one braggin' about his own country; and the
+Englishman began it by tellin' about his younger brother, who wasn't
+nothin' hardly in England but could do that first stunt with the clay
+pipes. Then the Frenchman told about his brother, who wasn't nothin' for
+a balancer but was pretty good at rope-work; and the Irishman, in order
+to trump 'em right, he tells about his youngest brother that was strong
+in the arms. Say, that shore knocked the persimmon, didn't it? Them
+fellers was like the man that come out of Loony Park&mdash;they didn't know
+straight-up! Their eyes was stickin' out so you could rope 'em with a
+grape-vine, but they didn't dare to peep. Been called down too often.
+But say, pardner, on the dead, how about that divin' hawse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;er&mdash;what do you mean?" asked Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, did he shore enough do that, or was you jest stringin' 'em?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, certainly he did! Haven't you ever heard about Selim, the
+diving horse? How long ago was it that you were at Coney Island?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;me?" inquired Brigham. "Never was there," he replied with engaging
+frankness; "never been outside the Territory. Say, you didn't think I'd
+shore been there, did ye?" he questioned eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly did," replied Bowles. "Of course, I knew that you were
+drawing the long bow this evening&mdash;but how did you get all this
+information if you've never been there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heh, heh, heh!" chuckled Brigham, rolling over on his bed. "Say, this
+is pretty good, by grab! Feller comes clear out hyer from New York, and
+I take him in, too! W'y, pardner, I was with a carnival company down at
+the Territorial Fair last fall, and that was the nearest I ever got to
+Coney; but they was a feller there&mdash;the ballyhoo man for Go-Go, the wild
+boy&mdash;and he was always tellin' me about Coney, until I knowed it like a
+book. Yes, sir, I jest camped right down and listened to that spieler;
+and he was shore glad to talk. Talkin' was his business, and he'd been
+at it so long he'd got the habit&mdash;couldn't help it&mdash;all he needed was
+some feller to listen to 'im. But all he'd talk about was Coney Island.
+Been there for years and didn't know nothin' else&mdash;and he shore filled
+me up right. Learned me all his spiels and everythin', and when I come
+back from winterin' in that Ph&oelig;nix country I tole 'em I was back from
+New York. New York and the Great White Way&mdash;and Coney.</p>
+
+<p>"But you shore strengthened my hand immensely, pardner, the way you
+he'ped out to-night. Now, we want to stand pat on this&mdash;don't tip me off
+to 'em&mdash;and pretty soon I'll have 'em all spraddled out ag'in. Hardy
+Atkins and that bunch, they make too much noise&mdash;they won't let me talk
+at all&mdash;but you watch me go after Bar Seven and these stray men. I'll
+tell ye&mdash;you put me wise to a whole lot more stuff, and I'll frame up
+another come-on. How's that now?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," agreed Bowles, yawning sleepily. "Good-night!"</p>
+
+<p>He dropped back into his blankets and covered up his head; but Brigham
+failed to take the hint.</p>
+
+<p>"Got any more divin' stories?" he asked, with gentle insistence. "They
+bite on them fine. Or a hawse story! A cowboy thinks he knows all about
+hawses. Go ahead and give me one now, so I can spring it on 'em in the
+mornin'&mdash;I got to have somethin' to come back at 'em with. They're
+always throwin' it into me about being a Mormon&mdash;I jest wanter show 'em
+that I've got the goods. Go ahead now&mdash;tell me somethin'!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Bowles, coming out from under his blankets; "but,
+really, I'm awfully sleepy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yeah; you'll git over that after you've been punchin' cows a while,"
+observed Brigham sagely. "I'm on the wrangle again, but it don't worry
+me none. Cowboy's got no right to sleep, nohow. Let 'im trade his bed
+for a lantern&mdash;that's what they all say&mdash;but don't fergit that divin'
+story, pardner. Didn't you never see no more divin' stunts&mdash;in New York
+or somewhere?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," answered Bowles, brightening up; "that reminds me&mdash;there's
+the Hippodrome!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" breathed Brigham. "What's it like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the Hippodrome," continued Bowles, "is an immense playhouse right
+in the heart of New York that's given over entirely to spectacles. It
+has a stage large enough to accommodate a thousand people, and a great
+lake out in front that is big enough to float a fleet of boats; and
+every year they put on some new spectacle. One year it will be the
+battle of Manila Bay, for instance, with ships and men and cannons, and
+a great shipwreck scene right there in the lake, with people falling
+overboard and getting drowned&mdash;and the peculiar thing is that when a
+boatload of people fall into that lake they never come up again. It's
+just the same as if they were drowned."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, say," broke in Brigham, "you're givin' me a fill, ain't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," protested Bowles warmly; "I'm telling you the truth. Why, I saw
+the most glorious spectacle there one night. It represented the tempting
+of some young prince by Cleopatra, the beautiful Egyptian queen. There
+were six hundred women in the play, and as they marched and
+countermarched across the stage the lights would throw soft colors about
+them, and then as they danced the colors would change, until the whole
+place looked like fairyland. Then they would swing up into the air on
+invisible wires and hover about like butterflies&mdash;there would be a flash
+and all would have wings&mdash;and then they would disappear again and come
+out dressed in armor like Amazons. And in the last act, when the prince
+had sent them away, they marched down the broad stone steps that lead
+into the lake, four abreast, and without taking a deep breath, or
+showing any concern whatever, they just walked right into that deep
+water and disappeared. Never came up again. Gone, the whole six hundred
+of them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone!" echoed Brigham in amazement. "Where to? Where'd they go to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Under the water&mdash;that's all I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, what a lie!" exclaimed Brigham, rising up in bed. "By jicks,
+pardner, I shore have to take off my hat to you&mdash;you got a wonderful
+imagination!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed!" protested Bowles. "It's every word of it true. This
+Hippodrome was designed by the same man who built Luna Park, and
+invented the loop the loop, and shoot the chutes, and all those other
+wonderful things. I was reading an article about that Hippodrome lake
+and it seems he built some kind of a great metal hood down under the
+water and filled it with compressed air of just the right pressure to
+displace the water. All the details are held secret, and the very people
+who use it are kept in ignorance, but as near as can be found out the
+performers dive right down under that hood and from there they are taken
+off through underground passages and carried back to their
+dressing-rooms. Several people were drowned while they were
+experimenting with it, but now it's perfectly safe; I don't suppose
+those women mind it at all."</p>
+
+<p>"No!" cried Brigham, still struggling with his emotions. "Is it as easy
+as that? But say," he whispered, as the magnitude of the story came over
+him, "jest wait till I get this off on the cowboys&mdash;I'll have me a
+reputation like old Tom Pepper, or Windy Bill up on the J.F.! You don't
+want to pull it yoreself, do you? Well, jest give me the details, then,
+and I'll depend on you to make my hand good when they come back for the
+explanation. But, by grab, if it's anythin' like what you say, I'm shore
+goin' to save my money and drag it fer old New York!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," murmured Bowles, cuddling down into his bed; "I'm sure
+you'd enjoy it."</p>
+
+<p>He fell to breathing deeply immediately, feigning a dreamless slumber,
+and when Brigham asked his next question Bowles was lost to the world.
+The cowboy's night was all too short for him, ending as it did at
+four-thirty in the morning, and not even a consideration for Brigham's
+future career could fight off the demands of sleep. Yet hardly had he
+closed his eyes&mdash;or so it seemed&mdash;when Gloomy Gus flashed his lantern in
+his face and then turned to the ambitious Brigham.</p>
+
+<p>"Git up, Brig!" he rasped. "It's almost day! Wranglers!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my Lord!" moaned Brigham, turning to hide his face, but the
+round-up cook was inexorable and at last he had his way. Then as the
+wranglers clumped away to saddle their night-horses the dishpan clanged
+out its brazen summons and one by one the cowboys stirred and rose. Last
+of all rose Bat Wing Bowles, for his head was heavy with sleep; but a
+pint of the cook's hot coffee brought him back to life again, and he was
+ready for another day.</p>
+
+<p>Shrill yells rose from the far corner of the horse pasture; there was a
+rumble of feet, a din of hoofbeats growing nearer, and then with a noise
+like thunder the remuda poured into the corral. A scamper of ponies and
+the high-pitched curses of the riders told where the outlaws were being
+turned back from a break; and then the bars went up and the wranglers
+ran shivering to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Pore old Brig!" observed Bar Seven with exaggerated concern. "He was up
+all night!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" inquired another. "Feet hurt 'im?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Bar Seven sadly; "it was his haid!"</p>
+
+<p>Brigham looked up from his cup of coffee and said nothing. Then, seeing
+many furtive eyes upon him, he laughed shortly, and filled his cup
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yore <i>eyes</i> look kinder bad, Seven," he said. "Must've kinder strained
+'em last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Nope," answered Bar Seven, upon whom the allusion was not lost; and
+with this delicate passage at arms the subject of big stories was
+dropped. Henry Lee came down, there was a call for horses, and in the
+turmoil of roping and mounting the matter was forgotten. Brigham had
+scored a victory and he was satisfied, while the stray men were biding
+their time. So the marvels of the Hippodrome were held in reserve, and
+the round-up supplied the excitement.</p>
+
+<p>As the riding of bronks progressed, the accidents that go with such work
+increased. Almost every morning saw its loose horse racing across the
+flats, and the number of receptive candidates for the job of day-herding
+was swelled by the battle-scarred victims. Then fate stepped in, the
+scene was changed, and Bowles found himself a man again.</p>
+
+<p>"Bowles," said Henry Lee, as he lingered by the fire, "can you drive a
+team?"</p>
+
+<p>Visions of a flunky's job driving the bed-wagon rose instantly in his
+mind; but Bowles had been trained to truth-telling and he admitted that
+he could.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever drive a wild team?" continued Lee, with a touch of severity.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;no," answered Bowles. "I've driven spirited horses, such as we
+have in the East, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Think you could drive the grays to Chula Vista and back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the grays!" cried Bowles, a sudden smile wreathing his countenance
+as he thought of that spirited pair. "Why, yes; I'm sure I could!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," commented Henry Lee, as if he had his doubts; but after a quick
+glance at the self-sufficient youth he seemed to make up his mind.
+"Well," he said, "I'll get Hardy to hook 'em up&mdash;Mrs. Lee wants you to
+take her to town."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," responded Bowles, turning suddenly sober. "I'll be very
+careful indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the cattleman; "and if you can't drive, I want you to say so
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I've driven in the horse shows, Mr. Lee," answered Bowles. "You can
+judge for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have, have you?" And the keen gray eyes of Henry Lee seemed to
+add: "Then what are you doing out here?" But all he said was: "Very
+well."</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, with his gloved hands well out to the front, and the
+whip in his right for emergencies, Bowles went racing southward behind
+the grays; while Mrs. Lee, her face muffled against the wind, was
+wondering at his skill. As a cowboy, Mr. Bowles had been a
+laughing-stock, but now he displayed all the courage and control of a
+Western stage-driver, with some of the style of a coachman thrown in.</p>
+
+<p>"How well you drive, Mr. Bowles!" she ventured, after the grays had had
+their first dash. "I was afraid I shouldn't be able to go to town until
+after the round-up&mdash;Mr. Atkins is so busy, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles bowed and smiled grimly. It had been Hardy Atkins' boast that he
+alone was capable of handling the grays, and as he was harnessing them
+up that gentleman had seen fit to criticize the arrangements, only to be
+rebuked by Henry Lee.</p>
+
+<p>"You know Mr. Lee depends so much on Hardy," continued Mrs. Lee, "and he
+needs him so on the circle that I disliked very much to ask for him&mdash;but
+something you said the other night about stage-coaching made me think
+that perhaps you could drive. Of course, any of the boys <i>could</i> drive,
+but&mdash;well, for some reason or other, I can never get them to talk to me;
+and to ride forty miles with a man who is too embarrassed to talk, and
+who hates you because he can't chew tobacco&mdash;that isn't so
+pleasant&mdash;now, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no, I presume not," agreed Bowles. "You know, I'm recently from
+the East, and perhaps that's why I notice it, but these Western men seem
+very difficult to get acquainted with. Of course I'm a greenhorn and all
+that, and I suppose they haven't much respect for me as a cowboy, but
+it's such a peculiar thing&mdash;no one will speak to me directly. Even when
+they make fun of me, they keep it among themselves. Brigham Clark is the
+only one who gives me any degree of friendship&mdash;and, that reminds me, I
+must get him some tobacco in town."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know what you mean," said Mrs. Lee. "I guess I do! Think of
+living out here for thirty years, Mr. Bowles, and having them still hold
+aloof. With Dixie, now, it is different. She was born here, and in a way
+she speaks their language. I have done my best, to be sure, to keep her
+diction pure&mdash;and Henry even has given up all his old, careless ways of
+speaking in order to do his part; but, somehow, she has learned the
+vernacular from these cowboys, and in spite of all I can say she will
+persist in using it. It was only yesterday that I overheard her say to
+Hardy: 'Yes, I can ride ary hawse in the pen!' And she says 'You-all'
+like a regular Texan. Of course, that is Southern too&mdash;and I have known
+some very cultivated Texans&mdash;but, oh, it makes me feel so bad that my
+daughter should fall into these careless ways! I have been in Arizona
+nearly thirty years now, and it has meant the loss of a great deal to me
+in many ways; but there was one thing I would not give up, Mr. Bowles&mdash;I
+would not give up my educated speech!"</p>
+
+<p>She ended with some emotion, and Bowles glanced at her curiously, but he
+made no carping comments. When a lady has sacrificed so much to preserve
+the language of her fathers, it would be a poor return indeed to give
+her aught but praise&mdash;and yet he could sense it dimly that she had paid
+a fearful price. Personally, he was beginning to admire the direct
+speech of Dixie May, even to the extent of dropping some of his more
+obvious Eastern variants; but to the mother he hid the leanings of his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Your accent is certainly very pure," he said. "Really, I have never
+heard more perfect English&mdash;except, perhaps, from some highly educated
+foreigner. Our tendency to lapse into the vernacular lays us all open to
+criticism, of course. But don't you find, Mrs. Lee, that your Eastern
+speech is a bar, in a way, to the closest relations with your neighbors?
+I know with me it has been that way, and I am already trying to adopt
+the Western idiom as far as possible. Why, really, when I first came,
+they ridiculed me so for saying 'Beg pardon' that I doubt if I shall
+ever use the expression again. And I am having such a struggle to say
+'calves'&mdash;not 'cahves,' you know, but 'calves'! It is all right to say
+'brahnding cahves' back in New York, but out here it is so frightfully
+conspicuous! And besides&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now, Mr. Bowles," protested Mrs. Lee, laying a restraining hand on
+his arm, "I hope you will not shatter all my hopes by falling into this
+dreadful vernacular. If you only knew how much I enjoy your manner of
+speaking, if you knew what memories of New York and the old life your
+words bring up, you would hesitate, I am sure, to cast aside your
+heritage. Really, if Henry would have let me, I should have invited you
+up to the house the very evening you came; but you&mdash;well, you had some
+disagreement with him at the start, and it's rather prejudiced him
+against you. And, besides, he has his ideas of discipline, you know, and
+against making exceptions of one man over another; and so&mdash;well, I did
+hope you would be able to drive, because now I want to have a good long
+talk.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not proud, or 'stuck up,' as they say out here, Mr. Bowles," she
+went on, as if eager to begin her holiday; "and really I do everything
+in my power to be friendly, but the class of people who come here&mdash;these
+poor, ignorant nesters, and rough, hard-swearing cowboys&mdash;they seem
+actually to resent my manner of speaking. Of course, I was a
+school-teacher for a few years&mdash;before I married Henry&mdash;and I suppose
+that has made a difference; but I do get so lonely sometimes, with Dixie
+out riding around somewhere and Henry off on the round-up&mdash;and yet I
+just can't bring myself to speak this awful, vulgar Texas-talk. Now
+Dixie, she rides around anywhere, speaks to all the women, says 'Howdy'
+to all the men, and, I declare, when I hear her talking with these
+cowboys I wonder if she's my own daughter! They have such common ways of
+expressing themselves, although I must say they are always polite
+enough&mdash;but what I really object to is their familiar attitude toward
+Dixie. No matter what their class or station, they always seem to take
+it for granted that they are perfectly eligible, and that she is sure to
+marry one of them, and that even the commonest has a kind of gambler's
+chance to win her hand."</p>
+
+<p>She paused, overcome apparently by memories of past courtships, and
+Bowles shuffled his feet uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he said at length, "your daughter is very attractive&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do you think so?" exclaimed Mrs. Lee, making no concealment of her
+pleasure in the fact. "I thought, from the way you spoke to her&mdash;when I
+introduced you, you know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was just my manner!" interrupted Bowles hastily. "A little
+embarrassed, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought," persisted Mrs. Lee, "I thought from the way you both
+acted that you had met before. In New York, perhaps&mdash;you know, she has
+been there all winter&mdash;or some time before that evening. You know, Dixie
+is generally so free with the new cowboys, but she spoke up at you so
+sharply, and you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;excuse me," interposed Bowles, "perhaps I would better explain.
+I did meet your daughter, very informally to be sure, on the morning
+of my arrival at Chula Vista. It was that which caused my
+embarrassment&mdash;always painful when people fail to recognize you, you
+know&mdash;and especially with a lady. Er&mdash;what do all these prairie-dogs
+live on, Mrs. Lee? We have passed so many of them, but I don't see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles," said Mrs. Lee, placing her hand once more upon his arm and
+looking at him with an anxious mother's eyes, "I want you to meet my
+daughter again. She was in New York all winter, you know, and perhaps
+you have some friends in common. Anyway, I wish we could see more of
+you&mdash;it would be such a pleasure to me, and Dixie&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She let her eyes express her longing for the improvement of Dixie's
+diction&mdash;a certain approval, too, of Bowles&mdash;but he did not respond at
+once. Fighting within his breast was a mad, fatuous desire to stand in
+the presence of his beloved, to hear the music of her voice and behold
+the swiftness and grace of her comings and goings; but almost as an echo
+in his ears he could hear the mocking formalism of her answers, and feel
+the scorn in her eyes as she sneered at him for pursuing her. His face
+became graver as he thought, and then, with the ready wit of his kind,
+he framed up a tactful excuse.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you," he said. "It's very kind of you, I'm sure&mdash;and there is
+nothing I should enjoy more&mdash;but under the circumstances I am afraid I
+shall have to decline. You know of course that, whatever my life may
+have been in the past, at present I am nothing but a hired hand&mdash;and a
+very poor hand at that, I am afraid. And since Mr. Lee has asked you not
+to make exceptions among the men, I should be very sorry indeed to go
+against his wishes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is not the rule, Mr. Bowles," protested Mrs. Lee. "We make
+exceptions to it all the time, and I am sure Henry would be glad to have
+you come. Some evening after supper, you know. I want so much to have
+Dixie meet people of refinement and education, and while for the moment
+you may be working as a common cowboy, of course we know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You know very little, as a matter of fact," interposed Bowles; "and I
+am sorry that circumstances make it impossible for me to discuss my
+antecedents. But has it not occurred to you, Mrs. Lee, that, considering
+the attitude of the cowboys in the past, it might&mdash;well, my motives
+might be misunderstood&mdash;if I should call."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, surely, Mr. Bowles," began Mrs. Lee, her eyes big with wonder,
+"you are not&mdash;er&mdash;afraid of what the cowboys&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no!" protested Bowles, blushing to the tips of his sunburned
+ears. "Certainly not! I did not mean the cowboys."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what then?" demanded Mrs. Lee, in perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bowles hesitated a moment, looking straight ahead to where Chula
+Vista rose between the horses' ears.</p>
+
+<p>"You will excuse me, Mrs. Lee, I'm sure," he said, speaking very low.
+"But when I spoke of my motives being misunderstood, I did not have
+reference to the cowboys. I was&mdash;er&mdash;thinking of your daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter!" echoed Mrs. Lee, suddenly sitting up very straight in her
+seat. Then, as the significance of his remarks became evident, she gazed
+across at him reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Bowles!" she said; and then there was a long, pensive silence,
+broken only by the thud of flying feet, the rattle and rumble of wheels,
+and the <i>yikr-r-r</i> of startled prairie-dogs.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>A LETTER FROM THE POSTMISTRESS</h3>
+
+
+<p>The morning after Bowles' return from his trip to Chula Vista&mdash;during
+which he had made the startling proposition about being misunderstood by
+Dixie Lee&mdash;the entire Bat Wing outfit packed up its plunder and pulled
+out for the big round-up. First the cowboys, with a fifteen-mile ride
+ahead of them before they began to gather, went stringing across the
+plains at a high trot; then the remuda, stretching out in a mighty fan
+of horses, came fogging along behind them, to be ready for a change at
+the cutting-grounds; and last the chuck-wagon and the bed-wagon&mdash;one
+full of Dutch ovens and provisions, the other piled high with
+well-lashed beds&mdash;went hammering through chuck holes and dipping into
+dry washes in a desperate attempt to reach the rendezvous in time for
+dinner.</p>
+
+<p>A gangling youth in overalls, and with a pair of cheap "can-opener"
+spurs on his shoes, acted the part of assistant to the horse-wrangler;
+and an open-faced individual with a great taste for plug tobacco and the
+song called "Casey Jones" drove the bed-wagon for Gloomy Gus; but Bowles
+rode out with the cowboys. By a piece of good luck, he had backed
+Wa-ha-lote into a corner that morning, and so menaced him with his rope
+that the good-natured monarch had finally stood and surrendered for a
+handful of sugar. So Mr. Bowles rode out in style, without any
+ostensible glances toward the big house, where Dixie May was reviewing
+her admirers from the gallery. By this time, of course, Mrs. Lee would
+have informed her daughter of the Eastern stray's presumption&mdash;of his
+daring to suggest that, in case he called, she, Dixie, might
+misunderstand his motives and think he was laying siege to her
+heart&mdash;and of course Dixie May would be indignant!</p>
+
+<p>But, if she was, she carried it off well, for Bowles never got a look
+from her. Of course, in a bunch of thirty cowboys, even on such a fancy
+mount as high-headed Wa-ha-lote, one man does not stand out
+conspicuously from the rest&mdash;that is, not unless his horse is pitching.
+Hardy Atkins was on an outlaw sorrel called El Paso del Norte, and he
+made up the center of the picture. Del Norte was a wonder at the
+buck-jump, especially if some one spurred him in the shoulders, which
+Hardy did, and the departure of our hero was a little dimmed by his
+dust. Still Bowles was pleased, even if he was leaving the home of his
+beloved for two weeks, for something told him that he had at last won
+distinction in the ruck of suitors&mdash;the only man who had not let it go
+for granted that he was in love with Dixie Lee. Of course, he
+was&mdash;desperately so&mdash;but an instinct deep down in his breast warned him
+to conceal it from all the world. And especially from Dixie, the
+capricious; otherwise, she might win him by a glance and a smile, and
+then disprize him forever.</p>
+
+<p>But now the stern realities of life loomed up before him, and Bowles
+found himself with a real round-up on his hands. It does not take much
+of a man to sit on the front porch and talk near-love with a girl; but
+to follow a Western round-up is a task to try the hardiest. For three
+hours Bowles rode at a rough trot across the valley, fighting down the
+awful instinct to rise in his stirrups and "bob"; and then as the
+distant hills grew nearer the cowboys broke into a lope. They separated
+into two parties that formed the horns of a circle, dropping off man
+after man as they jumped up cattle, and still spurring on and on. The
+puncher with the weakest horse was dropped first, for there would be no
+chance to change till noon, and the best mounted was saved to the last
+in order to get his full strength. Bowles was on Wa-ha-lote, and he rode
+to the end before Henry Lee sent him back with the herd.</p>
+
+<p>Very slowly now he plodded along behind his bunch of cattle, riding back
+and forth as he picked up strays, and driving them all to some common
+center. To the right and left, and far across to distant hills, he could
+see lone men at their task, and the great plain became dotted with
+cattle as the circle closed in on the grounds. A hundred cow-trails,
+sinuous as snake-tracks, led in to this place they all sought, and when
+the lowing strings of cattle met it was on the flat by a dammed-up lake.
+There the herds were thrown together, carefully so that no mother should
+lose her calf; and while they stood them upon the cutting-ground the
+wrangler brought up his horses, and each man caught out a fresh mount.</p>
+
+<p>Nowhere in all his work is the mastery of the cowboy more apparent than
+when he changes horses on the open plain. The great remuda of over two
+hundred horses was driven in on the gallop; then the cowboys rounded
+them up, and each man dropped to the ground. One by one they took down
+their ropes and threw the loose ends to their neighbors, and there in a
+minute's time was a corral that would hold the wildest outlaw, for a
+rope is the greatest terror of a cow-pony. It was a rope that
+fore-footed him when he was a colt, and bound him at the branding; every
+morning the long, snaky loops whizzed past their ears and dragged out
+those who must ride till they were ready to drop; and so, even though
+they had the power to brush the rope fence aside, the frightened horses
+huddled away from it and submitted to the noose.</p>
+
+<p>Bowles was barred, for his Mother Hubbard roping threw the herd into a
+frenzy; so he saddled up for Brigham and let that doughty puncher drag
+out his mount. Then the cutting and branding began, and Henry Lee put
+him to flanking calves. Perhaps he, too, had heard of the tenderfoot's
+remarks about his daughter; or it may have been the original grouch; but
+Bowles knew from the look in his eye that he was elected to do his full
+share. So he labored on, trying to learn the tricks of the older
+flankers, and schooling himself to their stoical endurance.</p>
+
+<p>A heavy wind came up, sweeping the dust across the flat in clouds, and
+still the cutters rode and roped. They ate dinner in relays, turning
+their backs to the storm and bolting their grimy food in silence, and
+hurried back to the herd. The sparks from the branding-fire flew fifty
+feet in a line, and the irons would hardly hold heat in the wind; but
+they carried the work through to the end. Then they moved the herd to
+harder ground, and cut it between the gusts, when every horse turned
+tail and the riders shut their eyes. The ones and twos were lumped
+together, the strays turned loose on the plain, and the outfit plodded
+on to the east, driving their cut before them.</p>
+
+<p>That night they camped at a ranch, throwing down their beds in barns and
+sheds, and eating in the open. The next day they braved the wind and
+combed the distant mountain, riding far over the rocky slopes, and
+branding in a cañon. On the third day the wind brought up rain and
+sleet, and the mountains were powdered with snow, but the round-up moved
+on inexorably. Then the wind veered to the east and the air became
+bitter cold; Gloomy Gus could hardly cook for the gale that assaulted
+him, and the wrangler lost eight or ten horses; but still the hardy
+cowboys rode and cut and branded, for a round-up never stops for wind
+and weather.</p>
+
+<p>As for Bowles, his face was peeled and swollen, his eyes half-blinded by
+dust and wind, his body chilled through in spite of his clothes, and he
+saw himself in that company like a child among grown-up men. Half of the
+cowboys left their coats on the wagon until the day of the blizzard; and
+Brigham was still in his shirt-sleeves, having rolled up his coat with
+his bed and forgotten to bring his slicker. Yet none of them railed at
+the weather; no one quit; it was their life. Perhaps from their earliest
+boyhood they had braved the Texas northers or endured the continual
+sandstorms of high and windy plains. They were used to it, like the
+horses that bore them; but Bowles was a more delicate plant. All he
+could do was to live on from day to day, wondering at their courage and
+hardihood, and marveling at his own presumption in thinking he could
+play at their game.</p>
+
+<p>A week passed, and the wind grew warmer, though it still swept in from
+the southeast. The outfit reached the limit of its circle and turned
+toward home, sending its cuts of dogies on before it. On the first of
+May they were contracted to be delivered at Chula Vista, there to be
+shipped to Colorado and the Texas Panhandle and fattened into steers.
+But feed was short, for the cold had set back the grass, and Henry Lee
+had wired that he could deliver on the twentieth. So while he waited for
+an answer he sent his cattle ahead of him, and every day as he rode he
+watched for a messenger from home.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was he alone in this, for the messenger would be Dixie; but no one
+said a word. It was part of the patience of these rugged sons of the
+desert that they should make no sign. They were camped in a grove of
+sycamores beneath the shelter of a hill, and the outfit was gathered
+about the fire, when she rode in at the end of the day. Each man of them
+regarded her silently as she carried the word to her father; and then,
+when he nodded his satisfaction, they stirred in expectation of her
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Howd-do, boys?" she said, vaulting lightly off her horse and coming
+nearer. "'Evening, Mr. Mosby; what's the chance for a little supper?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked them all over casually as she drew off her gloves by the
+fire, and for a few minutes the conversation was confined to news. Then
+she went back to her saddle, and returned with a bundle of letters.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys," she remarked, with a teasing smile, "I'm postmistress this
+trip, so line up here and give me your present names&mdash;also the names you
+went by back in Texas. 'James Doyle!' Why, is that your name, Red?
+Here's one for you, too, Uncle Joe. All right now, here's one from
+Moroni&mdash;for Charley Clark! Aw, Brig, are you still writing to that girl
+down on the river? Well, isn't that provoking! And here's a whole bunch
+for Hardy Atkins. Every one from a girl, too&mdash;I can tell by the
+handwriting. No, Mr. Buchanan, you don't draw anything&mdash;not under that
+name, anyway. But here's one for Sam Houghton&mdash;maybe that's for you? No?
+Well, who is it for? No, we can't go any further until I deliver this
+Houghton letter. Who is there here that answers to the name of Sam?"</p>
+
+<p>She glanced all around, a roguish twinkle in her eye, but no one claimed
+that honor.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to be afraid of," she urged. "It was mailed at Chula Vista, and
+written by a girl. Pretty handwriting, too&mdash;something like mine. I bet
+there's something nice inside of it&mdash;I can tell by the curly-cues on the
+letters."</p>
+
+<p>Once more she surveyed her circle of smirking admirers, but no one
+answered the call. She looked again, and her eyes fell on Mr. Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Stranger," she said, speaking with well-simulated hesitation, "I didn't
+quite catch your name down at the ranch&mdash;isn't this letter for you?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Bowles' heart stopped beating altogether and a hundred
+crazy fancies fogged his brain; then he shook his head, and gazed
+shamefacedly away.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Bowles," he said stiffly; "Samuel Bowles."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this says Samuel," reasoned Dixie Lee, advancing to show him the
+letter. "Here&mdash;take a look at it!"</p>
+
+<p>She stepped very close as she spoke, and as Bowles glanced at her he saw
+that her eyes were big with portent. Then he scanned the letter, and in
+a flash he recognized her handwriting&mdash;the same that he had seen on the
+train. A strange impulse to possess the missive swept over him at this,
+and his hand leaped out to seize it; but the look in her eyes detained
+him. They were big with mystery, but he sensed also a shadow of deceit.
+And while she might merely have designs on his peace of mind, there were
+other possibilities involved. To be sure, his name had been Houghton on
+his railroad ticket, but that did not prove anything now; and, besides,
+he did not want even that to be known. Affairs of the heart prosper best
+in secret, without the aid of meddling or officious outsiders; and for
+that reason, if for no other, Bowles desired to remain incog. Even with
+a false clue, Dixie May might write to New York, and ultimately reach
+his aunt, thus cutting short his romantic adventures. She might
+even&mdash;but he skipped the rest of the things she might do, and
+straightened his face to a mask.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, thank you, no," he said, speaking very formally. "Not for
+me&mdash;though the handwriting does seem familiar."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe it's money from home," she suggested; but still he refused to
+accept. He was ignorant of the ways of women, but his instincts were
+trained to a hair-line, and he read mischief in her heart. Yet curiosity
+almost tempted him to accede&mdash;or was it the witchery of her presence?
+For Dixie May stood very close to him, closer than was necessary, and as
+she argued, half in earnest, she fixed him with her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The boys by the fire, who had been looking on in wonder, became suddenly
+restive and impatient. Their little game of post-office had been broken
+up in the middle, and this stranger was monopolizing the postmistress.</p>
+
+<p>"But the postmaster thought it was for you," persisted Dixie May, now
+apparently annoyed. "He described you down to your hat-band; and if I
+don't get rid of this letter I'll have to take it clear back to town. Of
+course&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, take the letter!" broke in Hardy Atkins, striding over from his
+place and fiercely confronting Bowles. "What's the matter with
+you&mdash;ain't you got no manners? Well then, when a lady asks you to take a
+letter, <i>take it</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>He reached out to get the letter and force it upon him forthwith, but
+Dixie May tossed her head and jerked the missive away.</p>
+
+<p>"Who called you in on this, Hardy Atkins?" she inquired, turning upon
+him haughtily. "It's a wonder you wouldn't go off somewhere and read
+those pink scented billets-doux I gave you. I reckon this man knows his
+own name without any outside help. Now, you go on away and let me do
+this!"</p>
+
+<p>He went, his lips pouted out petulantly and a shifty look in his eye,
+and once more the fair postmistress turned upon her victim.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, here," she said, lowering her voice and speaking confidentially,
+"I'm not trying to force this upon you, but I've got a duty to perform.
+Think of the poor lady that wrote this letter," she urged, smiling
+significantly; "she may have something important to tell you. And don't
+mind a little thing like an alias&mdash;these boys have all got one." Once
+more she smiled, holding out the letter; and the boys favored him with
+dark and forbidding glances; but Bowles was game to the end.</p>
+
+<p>"So sorry," he murmured, bowing deferentially; "but my name is Bowles,
+not Houghton."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said Dixie Lee, looking him between the eyes; "so your
+name is Bowles, eh? I certainly hope you'll excuse me, stranger, but I
+sure thought your name was Houghton!"</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she turned and left him; and after pondering upon the matter
+for some time Bowles suddenly felt his heart go sick, for she had
+addressed him at the last as "Stranger."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ENGLISH LORD</h3>
+
+
+<p>A remarkable series of accidents happened to Bat Wing Bowles immediately
+after his discourtesy to the lady&mdash;accidents which seemed to indicate
+that he had lost his horseshoe as well as the good-will of his
+associates. For while Bowles had been a raw hand from the start it had
+early been remarked that horses would not pitch with him&mdash;but now, on
+the very morning after his contretemps, his mount took a fit of bucking
+which all but landed him in the dirt. A term of years in a military
+academy, as well as a considerable experience in riding to hounds, had
+left Bowles a little vain of his horsemanship; but in this emergency he
+had been compelled to reach down and frankly grab the horn. Otherwise he
+would have been "piled" before he could recover from the surprise. As it
+was, he was badly jarred, not only by the shock of the buck-jumps but
+also by the caustic comments of the cowboys.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma!" shouted one. "See 'im choke that horn!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let go of the noodle, Sam!" advised another; and then, in a kind of
+chant, they recited those classic lines that are supposed to drive
+Englishmen mad:</p>
+
+<p>"Hit's not the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse's 'oofs; hit's the 'ammer,
+'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway!"</p>
+
+<p>Time and again Bowles had explained that he was not English, that all
+gentlemen rose to the trot in the East, and that his people had never
+dropped an "h" in their lives. Like an old and groundless scandal that
+lives on denial alone, the tradition still clung to him; and now, as
+some vagrant fancy turned their will against him, they voiced their
+disapproval in this ancient gibe.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Hinglish, you know!" they shouted; and once more Bowles was
+branded as an alien. And all for refusing a letter and speaking saucily
+to a lady.</p>
+
+<p>As for the lady, she stayed at a ranch over night and went out early in
+the morning, taking a short-cut through the nesters' lanes for Chula
+Vista. A telegram must be sent to the receiving company that the cattle
+would be delivered on the twentieth, the cattle-cars must be ordered
+from the railroad, and the cattle inspector notified of the change; for
+the grass was eaten down to the rocks at Chula Vista, and a wait at the
+pens would be fatal. All these details Henry Lee trusted to his
+daughter, and, forgetting the frivolous nothings of yesterday, she rode
+past the Bat Wing outfit without stopping or waving her hand. Then
+somebody put something on Bowles' horse and they started the day with a
+circus.</p>
+
+<p>A second day, full of excitement and rough riding, followed, and then
+the gang took pity on the poor tenderfoot and left him to think it over.
+But Bowles was not broken in spirit; far from it, for he had been
+secretly longing for a horse that would buck. He was rapidly becoming so
+wise that deception was no longer practicable. When a man has an old
+staid cow-pony rise up under him and try to paw the white out of the
+moon, he is liable to look over his rigging rather carefully to see what
+it was all about; and if he should find a yellow spot on the flap of his
+saddle-blanket, a tender place on his horse's rump, and a suspicious
+odor of carbon bisulphide in the air, he is likely to shy away from
+unfriendly horsemen, even if he never heard of "high-lifing" a bronk.
+Those were eventful days for Samuel Bowles, and he found himself
+learning fast, when Henry Lee suddenly called him aside and told him to
+go with Brigham.</p>
+
+<p>Brigham was taking a bunch of dogies back to the home ranch and he
+needed a man to help him&mdash;also the boss was getting a little tired of
+these sudden accidents to Bowles. He was not conducting a circus or a
+Wild West Show but a serious and precarious business, and a touch of
+"high-life" at the wrong time might stampede his whole herd of cattle.
+So he told the tenderfoot to go on the drive with Brigham.</p>
+
+<p>There is a good deal left unsaid in a cow camp&mdash;so much, in fact, that a
+stranger never knows what is going on; and Brigham had been as silent as
+the rest while Bowles was taking his medicine. Even on the drive he was
+strangely quiet, chewing away soberly at his tobacco and looking out
+from under his hat with squinting and cynical eyes. They were friends
+now, as far as a tenderfoot can expect to have a friend, but Brigham
+said nothing about stringing the cattle, and asked no questions about
+gay New York&mdash;he had something on his mind. And when the time came he
+spoke it out.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, stranger," he said, still calling him by that cold name which
+marked him as a man apart, "did you see Dixie Lee back in New York last
+winter?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a bolt out of the blue sky; but Bowles was trained to
+evasions&mdash;he had lived in polite society and tried to keep friends with
+Truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lee?" he repeated in tones of wonderment.</p>
+
+<p>"W'y, sure," answered Brigham; "she was back there all winter."</p>
+
+<p>"So I hear," observed Bowles; "but there were about four million other
+people there too, Brig; so I can't say for sure. Why? What made you
+ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;nothin'," mumbled Brig, playing with the rowel on his spur as he
+watched the cattle graze; "only it seemed like, the way she spoke to you
+the other day, you'd mebbe met before. Some of the boys said they
+reckoned you knowed her back there&mdash;she talked so kinder friendly-like."</p>
+
+<p>A thrill went over Bowles at those kind words, but he hastened to cover
+up his tracks. Once let the boys know that he had followed her from the
+East, and there would be a dramatic end to all his hopes and dreams.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, Brig," he said, speaking confidentially; "I did meet
+Miss Lee down at Chula Vista the morning she came home, and that
+probably gave them the idea. But, say, now&mdash;about that letter. She
+didn't even know my name&mdash;now, why should she do a thing like that? My
+name isn't Houghton, and she knew I couldn't take the letter. It's
+against the law! What was she trying to do&mdash;play a joke on me?"</p>
+
+<p>He made his voice as boyish and pleading as possible; but it takes a
+good actor to deceive the simple-hearted, and Brigham only looked at him
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say yore name was?" he inquired at last; and when Bowles
+told him he chewed upon it ruminatively. "Some of the boys thought mebbe
+you was an English lord, or somethin'," he observed, glancing up quickly
+to see how Mr. Bowles would take it. "Course I knowed you wasn't," he
+admitted as Bowles wound up his protest; "but you certainly ain't no
+puncher."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles could read the jealousy and distrust in his voice, and he saw it
+was time to speak up.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Brig," he said, trying as far as possible to speak in the new
+vernacular, "I've always been friendly to you, haven't I? I know I've
+tried to be, and I want to keep your friendship. Now, I don't care what
+Hardy Atkins and his gang think, because they're nothing to me anyway,
+but I want you to know that I am on the square. Of course, I'm under an
+assumed name, and I guess you've noticed I don't get any letters; but
+that's no crime, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a genuine ring to his appeal now, and Brigham was quick to
+answer it.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, that's all right, pardner," he said. "I don't care what you did.
+Kinder hidin' out myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but I want to tell you, anyway," protested Bowles. "A man's got
+to have a friend somewhere, and I know you won't give me away. I didn't
+commit any crime&mdash;it isn't the sheriff I'm afraid of&mdash;but there must
+have been somebody down in Chula Vista that was following me, because I
+came away from New York on a ticket that was signed Sam Houghton. That
+isn't my name, you understand&mdash;but I signed it for a blind. Then I left
+the train at Albuquerque and came quietly off down here. But it looks as
+if somebody is searching for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Umm!" murmured Brigham, nodding his head and squinting wisely. "I got
+into a little racket down on the river one time, and the <i>sheriff</i> was
+lookin' fer me. Made no difference&mdash;the feller got well anyhow&mdash;but you
+bet I was ridin' light fer a while.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i>'ll tell you what we'll do!" he cried, carried away by some sudden
+enthusiasm. "I'm gittin' tired of this Teehanno outfit&mdash;let's call fer
+our time and hit the trail! Was you ever up in the White Mountains?
+Well, pardner, we'll head fer them&mdash;that's the prettiest country in
+God's world! Deer and bear and wild turkeys everywhere&mdash;and fish! Say,
+them cricks is so full of trout they ain't hardly room fer the water.
+The Apaches never eat 'em&mdash;nor turkeys neither, fer that matter&mdash;and all
+you have to have is a little flour and bacon, and a man can live like a
+king. They's some big cow outfits up there, too&mdash;Double Circles, an'
+Wine Glass an' Cherrycow. Come on! What d'ye say? Let's quit! This ain't
+the only outfit in America!"</p>
+
+<p>For the moment Bowles was almost carried away by this sudden rush of
+enthusiasm, and even after a second thought it still appealed to him
+strongly.</p>
+
+<p>"Are there many bears up there?" he inquired, as if wavering upon a
+decision.</p>
+
+<p>"Believe me!" observed Brigham, swaggering at the thought. "And mountain
+lions, too! A man has to watch his horses in that country, or he'll find
+himself afoot."</p>
+
+<p>"And the Indians?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," admitted Brigham, "of course them Apaches are bad&mdash;but they keep
+'em around the Fort most of the time, and don't let 'em carry guns when
+they go out&mdash;nothin' but bows and arrows. Come on&mdash;they won't make us no
+trouble!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, by Jove, Brig," sighed Bowles, drawing a long breath, "I'm
+awfully tempted to do it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," nodded Brigham, "finest trip in the world&mdash;an' I know that
+country like a book!"</p>
+
+<p>"But let's finish the round-up first," suggested Bowles. "And, besides,
+I want to find out who it is that's searching for me. I guess I didn't
+tell you what I'm hiding for?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," shrugged Brigham; "that's all right. Then if anybody should ask
+me, I'll tell 'em I don't know nothin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm going to tell you, anyhow!" cried Bowles impulsively. "I've
+got an aunt back East, and she's an awfully nice woman&mdash;does everything
+for me&mdash;but I have to do what she says. She doesn't <i>make</i> me do it, you
+know&mdash;she just <i>expects</i> me to do it! Maybe you never had any one like
+that? Well, I've always tried to do what she liked&mdash;she's my father's
+sister, you know&mdash;but this spring I just had to run away."</p>
+
+<p>"Too much fer you, eh?" commented Brigham, grinning.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it wasn't that so much, but she&mdash;she told me I ought to get
+married!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's the matter?" inquired Brigham, his grin wreathing back to
+his ears. "What's the matter with that?"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles blushed and blinked with embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the fact is, Brigham," he said, "she picked out the girl
+herself!"</p>
+
+<p>"No! Never asked you, nor nothin'? What did the girl say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Christabel? Why, she never knew, of course. I came out West
+immediately."</p>
+
+<p>A puzzled look came over Brigham's honest face.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, lemme git the straight of this," he said. "I'm a kind of Mormon
+myself, you know, and these fellers are always throwin' it into me about
+the way Mormons marry off their gals&mdash;did yore aunt make some trade with
+her folks?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;Christabel?" gasped Bowles, now breaking into a sweat. "Why, bless
+your soul, no! You don't understand how things are done in New York,
+Brig. Nothing was even <i>said</i>, you know, it was just understood! My aunt
+didn't even tell me whom she had in mind&mdash;she just told me I ought to be
+married, and threw me into Christabel's society. But I knew it&mdash;I knew
+it from the first day&mdash;and rather than hurt Christabel's feelings I just
+picked up and ran away!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be durned!" observed Brigham, gazing upon him with wonder.
+"And we thought you was tryin' to git Dix!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>BURYING THE HATCHET</h3>
+
+
+<p>To the hard-riding cowboy of the plains, the subtleties of emotion and
+romance are a closed book&mdash;just as the hand that whirls the rope is too
+crabbed to play the violin. Some of us in this world must do the heavy
+work. Some hands must be knotted, some backs bent with labor, some brows
+furrowed with wind and weather and the hard realities of life; but in
+return the laborers gain the strength of the wind-tossed oak and the
+patience of the ages. There are others whose lot it is to write the
+poetry and paint the pictures and reach out into the great unknown for a
+thousand haunting chords and harmonies; but they are a people apart.
+Their very sensitiveness makes them unequal to the stress of life; their
+slender hands cannot perform hard labor, and their hearts cannot endure
+the monotony and anguish of unremitting toil&mdash;yet they have their place
+in the world.</p>
+
+<p>The time may come when the tasks and rewards will be divided again and
+each of us be given a more equal share, but until that day men will fall
+into classes&mdash;and neither will understand the other. Samuel Bowles had
+lived the protected life, but Brigham had buffeted his way. At the story
+of the Lady Christabel he stood agape, marveling at the man who could
+perceive such subtle advances, wondering at the nature that would flee
+for such a cause; but in the end he gazed upon him pityingly, and
+accepted him for his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, pardner," he said, as they drifted their cattle along;
+"I'm up ag'inst it, too. They's a gal over on the river&mdash;don't make no
+difference about her name&mdash;but I used to think a lot of her. Wasn't
+skeered of her none, the way I am with Dix. She was an awful good girl,
+too&mdash;no fly ways or nothin'&mdash;an' I was kinder fixin' to marry her when I
+had this racket with the bishop. My folks are all Mormons, of course,
+and so are hers, and I like 'em well enough in certain ways, but I can't
+stand them dang priests. As long as I'm free I can pull out and go where
+I please, but the minute I marry and settle down I'm up ag'inst it
+proper."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Bowles, thinking of all the awful
+things he had heard about the Saints, but discreetly holding his peace.
+"Will they punish you for running away?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Brigham, shaking his head dolefully, "it ain't that&mdash;it's
+the things they make you do. I'm a renegade now&mdash;I don't pay tithes or
+nothin'&mdash;but if I settled down on the river I'd have to come in ag'in.
+Mebbe jist about the time I'm married they summon me fer a mission. Two
+years to some foreign country to bring in converts to the church&mdash;an'
+who's goin' to take care of my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" breathed Bowles sympathetically. "That <i>is</i> bad! Why don't you get
+married and live somewhere else, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's jest it," frowned Brigham. "Gal's a Mormon too, and she won't
+come. So there I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Bowles; and they rode a long time in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"That letter was from her," volunteered Brigham, jerking his head back
+toward the place where they had been camped, and after that he said no
+more. The old cynical look came into his squinted eyes, and he strung
+out the cattle methodically until they came to the home ranch. It was
+four o'clock in the afternoon then, and they lay over until the next
+day.</p>
+
+<p>The Bat Wing bunk-house was hardly a cheery lounging place. Outside of
+the illustrated magazine literature with which the walls were papered,
+the library consisted of three books&mdash;a boot, spur and saddle catalogue,
+"Lin McLean," and that classic of the cow camps, "Three Weeks." When the
+entire outfit was at "the home," Happy Jack was in the habit of reading
+choice passages of "Three Weeks" to his friends, he being the scholar of
+the bunch, and closing each selection with the remark: "Well, I reckon
+that's plain enough for you, ain't it?" And the boys would generally
+agree that it was.</p>
+
+<p>With the memory of Happy Jack still in mind, Bowles took shame to
+himself and read Owen Wister's "Lin McLean" instead, finding there a
+tenderfoot on another range who was worse even than himself. As things
+were coming now, Bowles hardly considered himself a tenderfoot any more.
+To be sure, he could not rope in the corral; but there were several
+local punchers in the same fix; and when it came to riding, he still had
+Wa-ha-lote in his string as a tribute to his skill as a fence jumper. He
+had also sat out a bucking fit or two when the boys put high-life on his
+horse; and, taken all in all he was not the worst rider in the outfit,
+by any means. As a branding hand, also, he was able to do his share; he
+had learned some of the rudiments of handling cattle; and his face had
+peeled off and tanned again, leaving him with a complexion in no wise
+different from that of his bronzed companions. And then, to top it all,
+he had won the friendship of Brigham, who was so good that he passed for
+a cowman.</p>
+
+<p>Poor old Brigham! He never said what was in that letter from his girl,
+but Bowles knew he was wrestling with his problem. His carefree laugh
+was silenced for the time and, after cooking up a little food in the
+kitchen that stood next to the bunk-house, he had caught up a fresh
+mount and ridden off alone. The windmill man and the fence mender were
+out on their rounds, and Bowles was reading "The Winning of the
+Biscuit-shooter" and wondering if it was true, when a horse trotted into
+the yard. Presently he heard a saddle hit the ground, and the pasture
+gate swing to, and then there was a clank of spurs on the stoop. The
+door swung open, and as he glanced up from where he lay he saw Dixie Lee
+looking in at him.</p>
+
+<p>The instincts of a lifetime prompted Bowles to rise to his feet and bow,
+but other instincts were crowding in on him now, and he only nodded his
+head. The memory, perhaps, of a fake letter to Samuel Houghton gave
+color to his indifference, and for the first time in his life he gazed
+at her with a shadow of disapproval. She was glorious indeed to look
+upon; but it is the heart that counts, and Dixie had seemed a little
+unkind. So he lay there with the book before him, and waited for her to
+speak. It was the first time they had been alone together since he had
+left her at Chula Vista, and it was not his part to make advances after
+what she had told him then.</p>
+
+<p>As for Dixie, she seemed suddenly embarrassed and ill at ease, though
+she carried it off with her usual frontier recklessness.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello there, cowboy!" she said, dropping down on the steps. "Where'd
+you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"I came from the upper water with Brig," answered Bowles, speaking for
+his part with decorous politeness. "We brought down a bunch of twos."</p>
+
+<p>A smile swept over Dixie Lee's face at this lapse into the vernacular,
+but she brushed it away as he frowned.</p>
+
+<p>"Bunch of twos, eh?" she repeated. "Say, you're getting to be a regular
+cowboy now, ain't you?</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Brig?" she inquired, when she saw that her remark displeased
+him; and once more he answered and fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a great fellow, old Brig," she went on, settling herself
+comfortably against the door-sill and indicating that the conversation
+was on; "you seem to be pretty thick with him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," agreed Bowles, sitting up and laying his book aside; "I like
+Brigham very much."</p>
+
+<p>"He's a great fellow to tell stories," continued Dixie; "always talking
+and laughing, too&mdash;I never did see such a good-natured man."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assented Bowles a little doubtfully; "I guess he's awfully
+good-natured&mdash;but even fat folks have their troubles, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's the matter with Brig? Has he run out of chewing tobacco?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no," said Bowles; "it's not that. I guess it's that letter you
+gave him."</p>
+
+<p>"Letter!" repeated Dixie incredulously. "What, from his girl? Oh, he'll
+be all right in a day or so&mdash;who ever heard of a cowboy going into a
+decline? And say, talking about letters, why didn't you take that one I
+wrote you the other day? I had something mighty special to communicate
+to you in that, but you'll never get it now! I hope the boys did
+something to you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Bowles serenely; "they hazed me for a day or two. You
+seem to have a great many admirers out here, Miss Lee."</p>
+
+<p>Dixie May's eyes flashed at the evident implication, and she had a
+retort on her lips, but something in his manner restrained her.</p>
+
+<p>"How can I help it if the boys get foolish?" she demanded severely. "And
+you don't want to let your Eastern ideas deceive you&mdash;it's the custom of
+the country out here."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," purled Bowles; "and a very pretty custom, too. Have you
+just come back from Chula Vista?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have!" snapped Dixie. "But you don't need to get so superior
+about it! I guess I can do what I please, can't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly," assented Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, what do you want to get so supercilious for?" raged Dixie.
+"I don't know, there's something about the way you talk that fairly
+maddens me! I've a good mind to tell the boys who you are, and have them
+run you out of the country! Why didn't you take that letter I wrote
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>She was angry now, and her voice was pitched high for a scolding, but
+Bowles showed no signs of fear.</p>
+
+<p>"The letter you wrote was addressed to Samuel Houghton," he said; "and
+that is not my name."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is your name, then?" demanded Dixie. "Bowles?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Bowles gazed at her, and there was a pained look in his
+eyes&mdash;what if his beloved should turn out to be a scold?</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask?" he inquired; and so gently did he say it that she
+faltered, as if ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "I guess it isn't any of my business, <i>is</i> it? I don't
+know what I'm doing here, anyway. If there's any one thing that makes
+Mother furious, it's to see me hanging around the bunk-house. She thinks
+I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She rose suddenly, and shook out her skirt, but Bowles did not protest.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't seem to care whether I go or not?" she pouted.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite the contrary, I assure you, Miss Lee," declared Bowles earnestly.
+"But I'm not on my own ground now, and&mdash;well, I don't wish to take
+advantage of your hospitality."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Dixie with gentle irony, "nothing like that! You want to be
+careful how you treat these Arizona girls&mdash;they're liable to
+misunderstand your motives!"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a>
+<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"'YOU WANT TO BE CAREFUL HOW YOU TREAT THESE ARIZONA GIRLS!'"</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>Bowles' eyes lighted up with a merry twinkle, but he preserved his poker
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I hope not!" he said; and then both of them smiled very knowingly.</p>
+
+<p>"The reason I wanted to get your name," observed Dixie, sitting down and
+smoothing out her skirt again, "was in case you got hurt or killed. Who
+am I going to write to in case you go out like Dunbar? Houghton? Bowles?
+Or who-all? You know, I feel kind of responsible for you, considering
+the way you got out here, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't think of that!" protested Bowles, coming over and sitting
+near her. "If I get hurt, the boys will take care of me; and if I get
+killed&mdash;well, it won't matter then what you do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't get killed," urged Dixie kindly. "And if you get hurt,
+Mother and I will nurse you back to health and strength."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, will you?" cried Bowles. "I'll remember that, you may be sure! But,
+speaking of names, has there been any one in Chula Vista inquiring for
+Samuel Houghton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you see!" exclaimed Dixie Lee triumphantly. "If you'd opened that
+letter I had for you, you'd have found out about it. As it is, you'll
+just have to keep on guessing&mdash;I'm mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," said Bowles. "The reason I asked was, Brig and I are
+planning to make a little trip somewhere, and if I thought there was any
+one searching for me I'd&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you don't need to run away!" explained Dixie hurriedly. "I'll tell
+you when to skip&mdash;but you don't know what you missed by not reading that
+letter I wrote you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, direct the next one to Bowles, then!" he pleaded. "But, no
+joking, I wish you wouldn't call attention to that other name&mdash;it's
+likely to get me into difficulties."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of difficulties?" inquired Dixie Lee demurely; but Bowles
+only shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very sorry I can't tell you," he said; "but it means a great deal
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe I can help you," she suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, you can!" assured Bowles, drawing nearer and smiling his
+naive smile. "Just don't tell anybody what you know, and let me have a
+chance. I've always been shut off from the world, you know&mdash;I've never
+had a chance. Just let me fight my way and see if I'm not a man. I know
+I'm new, and there are lots of things that come hard for me; but give me
+a chance to stay and maybe I'll win out. You don't know, Miss Lee, how
+much I treasure those stories you told me&mdash;when we were coming West on
+the train, you know. Don't you know, I think you have more of the
+feeling, more of the fine spirit of the West, than any one I have met.
+These cowboys seem so barren, some way; they seem to take it as a matter
+of course. And they all stay away from me&mdash;except Brigham. I don't get
+many stories now."</p>
+
+<p>He paused and Dixie May eyed him curiously. He was not the same man who
+had traveled with her on the train. A month had made a difference with
+him. But there was still the boyish innocence that she liked.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean stories about outlaws and Indians?" she said. "Hunting and
+trapping, and all that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" nodded Bowles, glancing over at her appealingly. "Where does that
+old trapper, Bill Jump, live? You know&mdash;the one you were telling about!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Bill? He lives up here on the Black Mesa&mdash;anywhere between here and
+the New Mexico line&mdash;and he sure is one of the grandest liars that ever
+breathed, too. I remember one time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles settled himself inside the doorway and drank in the magical tale.
+It was as if the Old West rose up before him, blotting out the
+barbed-wire fences and the lonely homes of the nesters and bringing back
+the age of romance that he sought. He questioned her eagerly, still
+watching her with his boyish, admiring eyes, and Dixie plunged into
+another. The sun, which was getting low, swung lower and a door slammed
+up at the big house. Then a reproachful voice came floating down, and
+Dixie jumped up from her seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "There's Maw&mdash;seems like I never get any
+peace! But, anyway, this old bear with the trap on his foot picked up
+Bill's gun and threw the chamber open, then he looked up into the tree
+where Bill was hanging and crooked his finger&mdash;like that! And Bill Jump
+said he knowed it jest as if that ol' b'ar spoke&mdash;he was signaling him
+to throw him down a cartridge, so he could put Bill out of his misery!
+Or that was what Bill said. But, say, I've got to be running&mdash;come up to
+the house to-night and let me tell you the rest of it! Oh, pshaw, we
+know what your motives are! Come along anyhow! And bring Brig with you!
+All right&mdash;good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a dizzy smile over her shoulder as she fled, and Bowles
+blinked his eyes to find the world so fair.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE STRAW-BOSS</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is the philosophy of the poseurs in pessimism that for every happy
+moment we have in life we pay at a later date a greater price. Of
+course, any one who ever took a kid to the circus knows better, but
+there are times when the doctrine seems to hold. When Bowles returned to
+the round-up, the news of his perfidy had preceded him&mdash;he had taken
+advantage of his position and spent the evening at the big house!
+Thereupon the hotheads lowered upon him malignantly, and Hardy Atkins
+hunted up his high-life bottle.</p>
+
+<p>The accepted function of carbon bisulphide in the great Southwest is to
+kill off prairie-dogs. A tablespoonful poured on a cow-chip and rolled
+down a dog hole will asphyxiate the entire family. The same amount
+poured on a man's horse will make the man think he has been shot with a
+pack-saddle, and that was what happened to Bowles. When he became too
+wary for the bottle, they resorted to other means, and finally he
+detected the bronco-twister with a loaded syringe in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, that will do, Mr. Atkins," he observed with some asperity. "It's
+all right for you boys to haze me a little, but my horses are getting
+spoiled and I'll have to ask you to stop."</p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" shouted Bar Seven and the stray men, who had sweethearts in other
+parts and dearly loved excitement. "He caught you at it, Hardy! Now what
+you goin' to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't goin' to do nothin'," declared Hardy Atkins, carefully stowing
+his squirt-gun away. "No Hinglishman looks bad to me, and I'll high-life
+him whenever I like!"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not!" said Henry Lee, coming up as he heard the words. "I've
+had enough of this foolishness, and I want you to quit right now. First
+thing you know that hawse will pitch into the herd and we'll have a
+stampede on our hands. Now, come ahead and clean out this pasture, we'll
+start the drive for town."</p>
+
+<p>They rounded up the pastures then, one after the other, and soon the
+great herd of dogies was strung out on the road. At regular distances
+along the flanks the swing men plodded along; toward the front the two
+point men directed the head of the herd; and, behind, the remainder of
+the men brought up the drag. They traveled slowly, sometimes swinging
+out into the hills and letting the cattle feed, and as they drifted
+along over the rock-patches the <i>clack, clack, clack</i> of splay-toed
+hoofs made a noise like rain on the roof. At intervals some stubborn
+two-year-old would break from the tail of the herd, some fresh-branded
+calf fall by the wayside, to be left for another drive; but the day of
+the steer is past on the lower ranges of the great Southwest, and
+feeders are easier to handle. So they dragged on, drifting over to the
+river for water and back onto the plains for the night, and many a
+nester's fence was laid flat as they jerked it to turn out the strays.
+Then, at the end of the third day, they came within sight of Chula Vista
+and Henry Lee rode on ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Hardy," he said as he turned his horse toward town, "I'll leave you in
+charge of the herd. Put them into the pens for the night, and hold the
+remuda out on the flats. I'll be down as soon as I find my men. And,
+remember, no drinking!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked very hard at his straw-boss as he spoke, and Hardy Atkins
+answered him dutifully; but when the boss was gone he turned and winked
+at his partners.</p>
+
+<p>"You hear me now, boys," he said. "No drinkin'! You know the rule&mdash;you
+cain't drink whisky and work fer Henry Lee! Umph-umm! But I hope to Gawd
+some of them town boys come out with a bottle!"</p>
+
+<p>He smacked his lips as he spoke, and made up a funny face.</p>
+
+<p>"I got three months' pay comin' to me," he remarked, and went spurring
+up to the front.</p>
+
+<p>"I never seen the time yet," observed Buck Buchanan, as he loafed
+philosophically along with the drag, "that I couldn't git another job
+somewhere. When I've got money comin' to me, I want to spend it, by
+Joe!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" agreed Happy Jack, who had been singing songs all day. "What's
+the use of workin', anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's me!" chimed in Poker Bill. "Let's quit and draw our pay!"</p>
+
+<p>"Put these cows in the pen first," said Jack, snapping his fingers and
+waltzing airily in his saddle.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It's all yore misfortune and none of my own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Cause you know my whistle is dry as a bone."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was a new experience to Bowles, this riding into a cow town, and he
+viewed with wide-eyed alarm the evidences of dissolution and revolt.
+Even Brigham was licking his lips and gazing at the town; and when the
+first bottle came out he took a long drink with the rest. Bowles excused
+himself, and wondered what would happen; but the half-drunken cowboy who
+brought out the life-saver never gave him a second look. It was not so
+hard to dispose of whisky in those parts.</p>
+
+<p>As the herd neared town, the idle and curious came riding out to see it,
+and Bowles was pained to notice certain painted women, who seemed to
+know the boys by their first names. They rode along the herd, waving
+handkerchiefs and shouting greetings, and a sudden distrust of frontier
+morality came over him as he observed the shameless response. The
+shipping pens were below the town about a mile&mdash;a barren square of
+whitewashed fencing, backed up to a side-track full of empty
+stock-cars&mdash;and as the weary cattle dragged along across the flats Hardy
+Atkins and a bunch of punchers cut off the leaders and whooped them on
+ahead. There was a jam at the gates, a break or two, and then the first
+timid dogie stepped fearfully into the enclosure. The smell of water in
+the troughs lured him on, the rest followed, and when the main herd came
+up it was artfully tailed on to the drag.</p>
+
+<p>At last! The high gate swung to on the harvest of the long round-up, and
+the punchers raced their horses to be first at the waiting chuck-wagon.
+In an angle of the fence Gloomy Gus had unpacked his ovens and set up
+his fire irons, and now as they flew at their supper he surveyed them
+with cynical calm.</p>
+
+<p>"Whar's Henry Lee?" he inquired at length; and Hardy Atkins pointed back
+to town with his knife.</p>
+
+<p>"He's over lookin' up his buyer," he said. "I'm the boss now, Cusi; what
+can I do fer you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're boss now, are you?" repeated Gus, with heavy scorn. "Well,
+then, why don't you send some one out to relieve thet hawse wrangler?
+He'll be turnin' the remuda loose pretty soon, from the way he's been
+makin' signs."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, he'll keep!" laughed the straw-boss. "Hey, fellers, who wants the
+first guard to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>Nobody spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody's got to stand guard," he observed, running his eyes over the
+crowd. "First guard's the best&mdash;eight to half-past ten. Bill? Jim? Hank?
+Well, I'll make it Jim and Hank, anyhow&mdash;only way to keep 'em in camp.
+You boys know Mr. Lee's orders&mdash;no drinkin' now&mdash;I don't want to find
+you downtown!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw-haw-haw!" roared the crowd. That was a good one&mdash;he didn't want to
+find them downtown! Well, what would <i>he</i> be doing down there?</p>
+
+<p>"Well, who's goin' to relieve us?" inquired Hank plaintively. "Last time
+we was down I had to stand guard all night!"</p>
+
+<p>The bronco-twister ran his eyes over the crowd again, as if searching
+for some one.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" he demanded
+facetiously. "He's the boy fer second guard&mdash;good and reliable&mdash;and
+Hinglish, too. Hinglish, I'll ask you and yore Mormon friend, Mr. Clark,
+to kindly stand the second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Jack and Buck
+fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand guard."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thunder!" grumbled Brig, as he threw himself down on his bed. "I
+wish the boss would come back. Them rounders will stay in town all
+night. Let's take a little flier ourselves," he urged as Bowles lay down
+beside him. "We can git back in time!"</p>
+
+<p>But a sudden sense of responsibility had come over Bowles as he observed
+how the crowd faded away, and he held Brigham to his post. At
+ten-thirty, in response to a hurried summons, they took a spare blanket
+for warmth and rode out to stand their guard.</p>
+
+<p>The stars wheeled round in their courses and sank down in the west; the
+horses shifted about on the barren plain and made their customary
+efforts to escape; and when the first cold light of dawn crept in, it
+showed "Hinglish" and his Mormon friend still standing their lonely
+vigil.</p>
+
+<p>But for once in a lifetime self-sacrificing virtue got its reward, for
+Henry Lee came riding out with his buyer at daylight and discovered them
+at their post. He did not say much&mdash;in fact he did not say anything&mdash;and
+Brigham and Bowles did the same; but there was a difference in the air.
+At last Bowles had justified his existence&mdash;he had stayed with his job
+to the end.</p>
+
+<p>There was a hurried searching of the town for Bat Wing cowboys, a
+straggling return of drunken and mutinous punchers, and then, with
+barely men enough to man the gates, the work of shipping began. By twos
+and threes the dogies were driven down a lane; the cattle inspector read
+the brands and made his tally, and the buyer passed them on or cut them
+back. Then, as the cutting and re-cutting was finished, the cattle were
+punched up the chutes and crowded into the cars. As the day wore on,
+more and more of the hands returned and took up the prod pole; but Henry
+Lee made no remarks. Even when his trusted straw-boss showed up late, he
+made no comment; but once back in camp he pulled his book like a pistol,
+and began to write out checks.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys," he said, "you were drunk last night; I'll have to give you
+your time. Hardy, you're a good cow-hand, but I'll have to let you go,
+too. So here's your time checks; and turn your horses out. I've got to
+have men I can trust."</p>
+
+<p>There was a heavy silence at this, for all the outfits in the country
+were full-handed now, and no one was looking for men. And Henry Lee was
+a good man to work for&mdash;he treated his hands white, fed them well, and
+paid the top price to boot. He also kept the best of them over winter,
+while others were riding the chuck-line or hanging around livery-stables
+in town. But nobody said a word, for they knew it would do no good; and,
+after he had paid them off and gone back to town, the luckless ones who
+had been fired drew off by themselves and talked the matter over. To be
+sure, they had the price of a drunk in their clothes; but they were
+fired and put afoot now, and town has no allurements to a cowboy unless
+he can ride in on a horse. So Hardy Atkins and his Texas followers
+lolled sulkily around the camp, sleeping fitfully in their blankets and
+glowering at Brigham Clark and the few careful spirits who had escaped
+their employer's wrath. And in particular they glowered at Bowles, the
+virtuous and dutiful, and hated him above all the rest for his air of
+conscious rectitude.</p>
+
+<p>Supper that evening offered no appeal to the drink-shaken carousers, but
+they stayed for it all the same, hoping against hope that the boss would
+come back and give them another chance. But they knew him too well to
+think it&mdash;Henry Lee would let his whole calf crop grow up to be
+mavericks before he would take back his word. Still they waited, and
+along toward sundown, as luck would have it, he came out; and with him,
+riding like a queen on her spirited horse, came Dixie May. She looked
+them over coldly, returning short answers to their shamefaced greetings
+and saving a smile for the cook.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-evening, Mr. Mosby," she said, pouring out a little coffee for
+politeness' sake. "And so these boys had to go on a drunk and get fired,
+did they? Well, you won't have so many to cook for now&mdash;that'll be one
+consolation."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Dix," agreed the cook, "but mighty little, believe me! One
+cowboy is jest about as ornery an' no 'count as the other&mdash;and whisky
+gits 'em all. They're all alike&mdash;I been cookin' for 'em fer thirty
+years, off an' on, and they ain't one of 'em is worth the powder to blow
+'im to&mdash;excuse me, Miss Dix. But, as I was sayin', take 'em as they
+come, and keep 'em out of town, and these boys is pretty fair&mdash;pretty
+fair; I'm sorry to see 'em go."</p>
+
+<p>At this kindly word of intercession, a new light came into the eyes of
+the unemployed; but Dixie Lee had come on a mission, and it was not her
+policy to yield in a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>I'm</i> not!" she declared. "If you'd listened to the amount of
+foolishness that I've suffered from these boys, Mr. Mosby; if you'd
+heard 'em say how they were going to save their wages and buy a little
+bunch of cows&mdash;and tell about the quarter-section of land they had their
+eye on&mdash;and swear, so help me God, they'd never take another drink of
+whisky as long as they lived&mdash;I believe you'd be glad to get rid of
+'em!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned and ran her eye over the crowd, and both the just and the
+unjust quailed before her.</p>
+
+<p>"And so you were drunk, were you, Mr. Atkins?" she inquired, fixing her
+gaze upon the deposed straw-boss; and Hardy Atkins shot a look at her
+which was both confession and appeal.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Jack?" she continued severely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," spoke up Happy Jack, upon whom the severity of her manner
+was lost. "I was drunk, all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you don't need to be proud of it!" she observed cuttingly. "It's
+no distinction in this bunch. Brig, were you drunk, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," responded Brigham promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what's the use of talking?" scoffed Dixie, glancing at his swollen
+face and bloodshot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"All the same, I wasn't!" denied Brigham boldly. "I reckon you'd look
+kind of bug-eyed if you'd been standin' guard all night!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's the matter with your face then?" she demanded. "Did the
+ground rise up and hit you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but an old cow did, over in the shippin' chute!" And Brigham drew
+himself up and grinned defiantly. It was not often that he had a chance
+to assume this high moral pose, and he decided to make the most of it.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," interposed Henry Lee, who so far had let his daughter do
+all the talking. "Brig and Bowles stood guard all night and brought up
+the remuda in the morning. I won't forget that, Brig," he added
+significantly. "I'm looking for men I can trust."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good for you, Brig!" commented Dixie May, smiling with sudden
+approval; and at that the other suitors fell into a black rage of
+jealousy and distrust. There was silence for a while, and then Happy
+Jack spoke up.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lee," he said, "I know I was drunk last night&mdash;my own fault, of
+course&mdash;but here's the proposition. You got to take on somebody to do
+yore work; what's the use of hirin' these town bums when you can git
+yore old hands back? That's the way we stand, and I hope you'll give us
+a chance."</p>
+
+<p>This was a long speech for Jack, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as
+he waited for the answer. The rest of the unemployed rumbled their
+acquiescence to the statement and watched for some sign of weakening;
+but Henry Lee did not change his frown.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm looking for men I can trust," he said at last. "These boys here
+stayed in camp and were on hand to help with the shipping. Maybe some of
+them ain't quite as good cowboys as you are, but I can depend on them
+not to turn my remuda loose the first night I leave 'em alone, and I'm
+going to make them top hands. You fellows get the top mounts and
+forty-five a month," he added, glancing briefly at Brig and the faithful
+few, most of whom were nesters boys, and married men working for a
+stake; "and I want some more just like you."</p>
+
+<p>"But how about us?" inquired Happy Jack after a silence. "I'll take on
+for a green hand, myse'f&mdash;forty dollars&mdash;and ride bronks, too. And I
+know that upper range like a book!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" murmured the rest; and once more they waited on Henry Lee.</p>
+
+<p>He sat for a while studying on the matter, and then he exchanged glances
+with his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"If he takes you back, are you going to run it over these other hands
+and make a lot of trouble?" she inquired shrewdly. "Because if you
+are&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A chorus of indignant denials answered this unjust accusation, and Dixie
+Lee's face became clear.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'd take 'em back," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't do it," rapped out Henry Lee. "But I'll tell you what I
+will do," he went on, as the gang lopped down despondently. "You boys
+have got your time checks. All right, you go up town and cash them in,
+and if you can pay your saloon debts and get out of town sober, I'll
+take you on. But if any man takes a drink, or brings out a bottle, he'll
+never ride for Henry Lee again&mdash;I've lost enough horses through drunken
+punchers. Brig, I'll leave you in charge of the outfit."</p>
+
+<p>He swung up on his horse as he spoke, and Dixie rode away after him,
+followed by the admiring gaze of all hands and the cook. Henry Lee was a
+good boss, but the average Texas cow-puncher is not weak-kneed enough to
+court the favor of any man. Once he is fired, he takes his money and
+spends it philosophically; but in this case Dixie May had intervened,
+and rather than lose their chance with her the whole gang had taken
+lessons in humility.</p>
+
+<p>"She's all right," observed Happy Jack, wagging his head and smiling as
+he watched her off. "She wraps him around her little finger."</p>
+
+<p>"Wonder how she come to be down here?" inquired a new hand; and Jack
+answered him, with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Ridin' herd on the old man, of course!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" grumbled Hardy Atkins. "The old lady is up there, too. That's
+the one thing I got ag'inst Henry Lee&mdash;he's been a booze-fighter and
+quit. That's what makes him so doggoned onreasonable!"</p>
+
+<p>"They say John B. Gough and Sam Jones was reformed drunks, too,"
+commented Poker Bill sagely; but there was one member present who did
+not take even a philosophical interest in the discussion. It was Brigham
+Clark, the new straw-boss. Through a chain of circumstances a little
+hard to trace, he had refrained from his customary periodical, and,
+behold, of a sudden he was elevated above all his fellows, and placed in
+a position of authority.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he broke in sharply, "it's gittin' dark&mdash;who's goin' to relieve
+that horse wrangler? Bill? Buck? Well, I'll put you on the first guard,
+anyhow&mdash;only way to save you from yorese'ves!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, listen to the big fat stiff!" commented Buck Buchanan, who felt the
+need of a nap; but Brig paid no attention to his remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"You boys bring them in to the pen fer a drink," he ordered, with
+pompous circumstance, "and hold them out on yon flat. Who wants to stand
+second guard? Jim? Hank?" He craned his neck about as Hardy Atkins had
+done the night before; and Hardy, who had been thinking about other
+things, sat up with a sudden scowl.</p>
+
+<p>"Whar's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" demanded
+Brigham, imitating with roguish accuracy the broad Texas accent of his
+predecessor. "He's the boy fer second guard&mdash;good and reliable&mdash;comes
+from Texas, too. Mr. Atkins, I'll ask you and yore cotton-picker friend,
+Happy Jack, to kindly stand second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Sam
+and Slim fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand no guard!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>AND HIS SQUIRREL STORY</h3>
+
+
+<p>The upper range of the Bat Wing was a country by itself. To reach it
+they rode due north from Chula Vista, following an old road that had
+been fenced so many times that Gloomy Gus became discouraged. Twisting
+and turning, driving around through new-made lanes, or jerking a world
+of staples and laying the wire on the ground, he toiled on in the wake
+of the outfit, which was rounding up spare corners of the unfenced
+range. Behind him came the horse wrangler and his helper, doing their
+best to keep the remuda out of the barbed-wire, and jerking up more
+fence with their ropes than Gus laid down with his nail-puller.
+Certainly in that wide, windmill-dotted valley, the open range was a
+thing of the past. It was only thirty feet to water, and the nesters
+were settling everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"One more day like that," observed Gloomy Gus as he threw together a
+late supper, "and I quit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Me too!" chimed in the wrangler; and the punchers felt much the same.</p>
+
+<p>"A few more years like this last," remarked Henry Lee, gazing gloomily
+out across his former estate, "and we'll all quit. But, thank God, they
+can't farm the Black Mesa."</p>
+
+<p>On the second day they turned east, crossing the boggy river and
+mounting up on a great plateau, and then Bowles saw why Henry Lee's
+remark was true. The Black Mesa was high and level, with a wealth of
+coarse grass on the flats and wooded hills behind; but hills and flats
+alike were covered with a layer of loose rocks that made the land a
+wilderness. Even the wagon road on which they traveled was a mere rut
+across the rock patch, and from a distance it looked like a ruined stone
+wall where the rocks had been thrown to both sides. And the rocks were
+black, a scorched, volcanic black, with square corners and uneroded
+edges that gashed at the horses' ankles. Deep-cut cañons wound
+tortuously across the level mesa, their existence unsuspected until the
+rider stopped at their brink; and, hidden in their sullen depths, the
+scant supply of water was lost to all but the birds.</p>
+
+<p>Yet to the cowboys the landscape was cheering, for there was bunch-grass
+between the rocks and not a house in sight. It is hard to please
+everybody in this world, but cowboys are easily pleased. All they want
+is a good horse and plenty of swing room, and a landscape gardener
+couldn't make it better. To Bowles the lower valley had been a wild and
+unsettled country, but he found that even the Black Mesa was tame to
+these seasoned nomads.</p>
+
+<p>"Jest wait till I take you to the White Mountains," said Brig, as he
+rode by his side. "This country has all been fed off till they's nothin'
+much left but the rocks&mdash;no game nor nothin'. But the Sierra Blancas are
+different&mdash;that's them over that far ridge."</p>
+
+<p>He pointed at a filmy point of white, half lost between the blue of the
+pine-clad mountains and the blue of the sky beyond, and Bowles' heart
+leaped up at the sight. At last he was in the Far West&mdash;that strange,
+elusive country of which so many speak and which is yet so hard to
+find&mdash;and the untrod wilderness lay before him. The Sierra Blancas, home
+of the deer and the bear and the wolf and the savage Apache Indians!
+Even in his age and time, there was still a wilderness to conquer and
+the terrors of the old frontier to stir the blood.</p>
+
+<p>"How far is it?" he inquired, his eyes questing out the way; and when
+Brig told him he reached over and clutched his hand. "Brig," he cried,
+"I want to go there. I'd like to go right now!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked across at his partner, but Brigham did not answer, and Bowles
+knew what was in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, now that you're made foreman&mdash;&mdash;" he began; but Brig smiled
+a cynical smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you let that worry you none," he growled. "The way these Texicans
+is takin' on, I don't reckon I'll last very long. Hardy Atkins is the
+leader of this bunch, and he's bound to git his job back&mdash;I'm jest
+holdin' on fer spite."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can he get it back?" protested Bowles. "Mr. Lee told me you
+were one of the best cowmen he ever knew, and you certainly know the
+range all right&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but that ain't it," put in Brig. "Here's the proposition. Henry
+Lee is gittin' old&mdash;he can't be his own wagon-boss forever, and he's
+lookin' round for a man. The man that gits the job will git more than
+that&mdash;he'll marry Dixie Lee."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense!" cried Bowles. "Why should he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know why," answered Brigham doggedly. "Only that's the way it
+always goes&mdash;and Hardy, he wants Dixie."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely, after the way he conducted himself down at Chula Vista&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's nothin'," asserted Brigham.</p>
+
+<p>"You think she would marry him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know," grumbled Brig. "She's got us all a-guessin'. All I know
+is, I won't last long as a straw-boss. You wait till we git up in the
+mountains where old Henry can't git no more hands, and then watch the
+fur begin to fly. Didn't they all eat dirt to git took back fer green
+hands? Didn't you see 'em talkin' it over? All they got to do now is to
+git <i>us</i> fired, and then <i>they'll</i> be the top hands. Huh! That's easy!"</p>
+
+<p>The second-in-command would say no more, but a few days gave token of
+the coming storm. As they pulled in at the upper ranch, where cowboys
+and "station-men" did duty all the year, the stray men from other
+outfits threw in with them again and increased their number to a scant
+twenty. Bar Seven was there, after a return to his own headquarters, and
+several of the other men; but the men who dwelt in the hills were of a
+different breed, with hair long and beards scrubby, and overalls greasy
+from lonely cooking; and they looked at Bowles askance.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's that feller?" they asked; and the answer was always the same, if
+they asked it of a Texan.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's a young English dude," they said. "He's got his eye on
+Dixie."</p>
+
+<p>Strange how these men of the frontier were so quick to read his
+heart&mdash;Bowles had talked with Dixie Lee only twice in a month but they
+had read him like a book. Or perhaps it was just plain jealousy, since
+they, too, had their eyes on Dixie&mdash;jealousy and a sneaking knowledge
+that he had a chance to win. They cast appraising glances at his
+expensive saddle, his silver-mounted spurs and eleven-dollar Stetson,
+and hated him for his prosperity; they watched him work in the corral,
+and scoffed at him for his horsemanship; and when he talked, they
+listened to his broad "a's," his soft "r's" and his purling "er's" with
+wonder and contempt. Not that they listened very much, for they took
+pains to break in on him as grown folks do when a child is speaking; but
+they curled their lips at his coming, and exchanged glances behind his
+back, and finally, as the work progressed, their hostility began to take
+form.</p>
+
+<p>For three days the outfit lay at headquarters while fresh horses were
+caught and shod; and here Hardy Atkins and his followers suffered the
+humiliation of losing their mounts. As top hands they had taken the pick
+of the remuda, the fleetest runners, the gentlest night horses, the
+best-reined cutting horses; but now in the reapportionment they found
+themselves reduced to "skates and bronks." Three days of shoeing the
+skates, and especially the bronks, did not tend to sweeten their tempers
+any, and as they moved up to Warm Springs and began to rake the range
+the spirit of rebellion broke loose.</p>
+
+<p>Warm Springs lies at the bottom of a gash in the face of the mesa, and
+the cow-trails lead to it for miles. Above there is no water, below it
+is shut in by the rim of the cañon, and the cattle file down the long
+trail day and night. Consequently the nearby grass is fed down to the
+roots, and the remuda had to be held up on the high mesa. All day the
+horse wrangler grazed his charges in distant swales, bringing them in
+for water and the horse-changing morning and noon; and at night the
+cowboys watched them beneath the cold stars&mdash;that is, when they kept
+awake.</p>
+
+<p>On the second morning three horses were missing, the next day two more,
+and on the next eight horses more were gone and several men were
+practically afoot.</p>
+
+<p>"Who let those horses get away?" demanded Henry Lee, as he rounded up
+his night herders by the corral.</p>
+
+<p>"Not me!" said the members of the first guard.</p>
+
+<p>"We never stopped ridin'," said the second guard.</p>
+
+<p>"They was gone when we come on," said the third guard.</p>
+
+<p>And the fourth guard swore they were innocent.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, somebody's been asleep&mdash;that's all I know!" said Henry Lee; and
+he sent off two mountain men on their best mounts to trail the runaways
+down and bring them back. Then he listened to the mutual recriminations
+of the night herders, and guessed shrewdly at who was at fault. For when
+the night herders get to quarreling among themselves, waking each other
+up ahead of time, and sleeping on one hand till it slips and wakes them
+up, that is a sure sign and precursor of greater troubles to come, and
+it calls for an iron hand. Even as he was listening, a row broke out in
+the round corral, where the cowboys were roping their mounts.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn that hawse loose!" roared Brigham, suddenly mounting up on the
+fence.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not!" retorted the voice of Hardy Atkins from within.</p>
+
+<p>"He belongs to my mount!" protested Brigham with appropriate oaths.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care whose mount he belongs to!" snarled the ex-straw-boss,
+dragging the horse out by the neck. "You top hands mash yore ear all
+night and let my hawses drift&mdash;and then expect me to walk. You bet yore
+boots that don't go&mdash;I'll take the best I can find. You can't put <i>me</i>
+afoot!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll put you on yore back," rumbled Brigham, dropping truculently down
+from his perch, "if you try to git gay with me. You may be from Bitter
+Crick, Texas, but you got to whip me before you break into my mount!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's got the Bat Wing brand on 'im," sulked Atkins; "that's all I
+know. And as long as they's a hawse left in the remuda&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, here!" said Henry Lee, walking in on the squabble. "What's all
+this about? What are you doing with Brig's hawse, Hardy? Why don't you
+ride your own?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, these hyer nester kids and Mormons went to sleep on guard and let
+my top hawses pull&mdash;now I got nothin' but bronks to ride!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ride 'em, then!" commanded Henry Lee severely. "And, another
+thing, Mr. Atkins! Next time you've got a grievance, come to me&mdash;don't
+try to correct it yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>He regarded his former straw-boss with narrowing eyes, and Atkins roped
+out a bronk; but in the evening he took the first occasion to pick a
+quarrel with Brigham. They were gathered about the fire in the scant
+hour between branding and first guard, and Brigham was telling a story.
+As was his custom, Henry Lee had pitched his tent to one side, for he
+never mixed with his men; and Brig had the stage to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you fellers talk about gittin' lost," he was saying; "you ought
+to be up in that Malapai country. We had a land-sharp along&mdash;claimed to
+know the world by sections&mdash;and he&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, what do you know about the Malapai country?" broke in Atkins
+rudely. "You cain't even lead a circle on the Black Mesa and git back to
+camp the same day! My hawse give out this mornin' tryin' to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Say," interposed Brigham peaceably, "you know what the boss said this
+mornin'&mdash;if you got any grievance, tell it to him. I'm tellin' these
+gentlemen a story."</p>
+
+<p>"A dam' lie would come nearer to it!" sneered Hardy, curling his lips
+with spleen; and at the word Brigham rose swiftly to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"If you're lookin' fer trouble, Mr. Atkins," he said, taking off his hat
+and laying it carefully to one side, "you don't need to go no further.
+And if you <i>ain't</i>," he cried, suddenly advancing with blood in his eye,
+"you take back what you said, or I'll slap yore face off!"</p>
+
+<p>The astounding ease with which he got a rise out of his adversary seemed
+to take all the fight out of Hardy Atkins, and he mumbled some vague
+words of apology; but Brigham was hard to mollify.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's all right," he grumbled. "It ain't my fault if you go on a
+drunk and lose yore job, and it ain't my fault if the boss makes me
+straw&mdash;but don't you try to crowd me, Hardy Atkins, or I'll make you
+match yore words. The man never lived that can call me a liar and git
+away with it, and I'll thank you to let me alone."</p>
+
+<p>He went back and sat down by the fire, puffing and panting with the
+violence of his emotions; but as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire and
+no one interrupted his mood he fell into a cynical philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>"Mighty funny about these Tee-hannos," he said, glancing around at the
+respectful company. "They say, back in Texas, when a man gits where he
+can count fifty they set him to teachin' school&mdash;and when he can count
+up to a hundred he gits on to himse'f and leaves the cussed country.
+Ordinary folks kin only count to twenty&mdash;ten fingers and ten toes, like
+an Injun. It's sure a fine country to emigrate from."</p>
+
+<p>He looked about with a superior smile, and Buck Buchanan took up the
+cudgels for Texas.</p>
+
+<p>"They tell me, Brig," he said, "that them Mormons down on the river
+cain't talk no mo'&mdash;jest kinder git along by signs and a kind of
+sheep-blat they have."</p>
+
+<p>"Nope," answered Brigham; "they is sech people, but they don't live
+along the Heely. Them fellers you're thinkin' of is in the goat
+business&mdash;they don't say <i>baaa</i>, like a sheep; they go <i>maaa</i> like a
+goat. I've heard tell of them, too. It seems they don't wear no
+pants&mdash;nothin' but shirts. They live on them goat ranches back in
+western Texas."</p>
+
+<p>He paused and looked around for appreciation, but only the nester kids
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I was drivin' a bunch of strays down through that Mormon country one
+time," explained Buck Buchanan; "that's where I got the idee. That's a
+great country, ain't it, Brig? Lots of houses, too. I remember I stopped
+one time at a street crossin' and they was houses on all four corners.
+They was a lot of kids playin' around, and I asked one of 'em whose
+houses they were, and he says: 'My father's.'</p>
+
+<p>"'How comes yore father to have so many houses?' I says. 'Does he rent
+'em?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No, sir,' the kid says, 'he lives in 'em. Don't you know him? He's the
+bishop!'"</p>
+
+<p>A roar of laughter followed this brutal innuendo, but Brigham was not
+set back. His mind had become accustomed to all such jests.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, you're jealous," he grunted, and let the Gentiles rage until, as
+the talk ran on, he gradually assumed the lead.</p>
+
+<p>"That's one thing you'll never find around a Mormon town," he began,
+still speaking with philosophical calm; "you'll never find no Texican.
+Of course, a Mormon has to work, and that bars most of 'em at the start;
+but, I dunno, seems like the first settlers took a prejudice ag'inst
+'em. I remember my old man tellin' how it come that way&mdash;course they
+must be mistaken, but the Mormons think a Texan ain't got no sense.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems the Mormons was the first folks to settle along the Heely, and
+my grandpaw was one of the leaders&mdash;he killed a lot of Injuns, believe
+me! But one day when he was gittin' kinder old and feeble-like, he got a
+notion in his head that he wanted a squirrel-skin, and so he called in
+my father and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Son, you take yore rifle and go out and git me a gray squirrel; and be
+careful not to shoot 'im in the head, because I want the brains to tan
+the skin with.'</p>
+
+<p>"So my father he went up in the pines and hunted around; but the only
+squirrel he could find was stickin' his head over the limb, and rather
+than not git nothin' he shot him anyhow. Well, he brought him back to
+the old man and he said to 'im:</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm mighty sorry, Dad; the squirrels was awful scarce, and rather than
+not git any I had to shoot this one through the head.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, that's all right,' the old man says. 'You got a nice skin anyway,
+and I reckon we can fix it somehow. I tell you what you do. They's a
+bunch of Texans camped down by the lower water&mdash;you go down and kill one
+of them, and mebbe we can use <i>his</i> brains.'"</p>
+
+<p>Brigham paused and looked around with squinched-up, twinkling eyes; and
+at last Buck Buchanan broke the dramatic silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he demanded roughly, "what's the joke?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," ran on Brig, "you wouldn't hardly believe it, but my old
+man had to kill six of them Texicans to git brains enough to tan that
+squirrel-skin! That's why they won't take 'em into the church."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ROUGH-RIDERS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Brigham Clark's squirrel-skin story was not calculated to build up the
+<i>entente cordial</i> with Texas, but Brigham was no trimmer. The only kind
+of fighting he knew was to stand up and strike from the shoulder, and a
+few cracks about Mormon marital customs had not tended to lighten the
+blow. Numerically he was outnumbered by the Texans, but when it came to
+a contest of wits he did not need any help. He went off to bed now,
+laughing, and to all of Bowles' chidings he turned an unheeding ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Let 'em roar," he said. "It's no skin off my nose. Them fellers has
+been cavin' round and givin' off head long enough&mdash;I sure capped 'em in
+on that, all right. Well, let 'em rough-house me if they want to&mdash;they's
+two can play at that game. I never seen the Texan yet that looked bad to
+me. And if they git too gay the boss will fire the whole caboodle. I
+ain't lookin' fer trouble, but no bunch of ignorant Texicans can run it
+over <i>me</i>! Umph-umm!"</p>
+
+<p>So the feud went on, and when Dixie rode into camp with the mail she
+smelled war in the very air. The men walked past each other with the
+wary glances of fighting dogs, and even her little comedy at the
+delivering of the letters failed to visibly lighten the gloom. A private
+interview with the cook, who carefully kept out of the ruction and gave
+neither side comfort nor succor, revealed the fact that the situation
+was serious; and with the success of the round-up at stake, Dixie May
+was quick to act. When her father returned to his dog tent at
+supper-time he found her war-bag inside, and with a mount of horses cut
+out for her, Dixie Lee took on for a cowboy.</p>
+
+<p>They were up on the cedar ridges of the mountains now, driving down wild
+steers from the upper pastures, and a woman was as good as a man. Dixie
+was better than most, for she had ridden those rough mesas before and
+could drift off a ridge like a blacktail. Her desperate rivalry in the
+chase fired the hearts of the most malingering, and more than one
+moss-headed old outlaw found himself outgeneraled and flogged into the
+herd. And a steer is a steer these days&mdash;he is worth as much as a horse.</p>
+
+<p>Every morning as the punchers set out on the long circle Dixie May
+picked out a man to dare, and several prairie-bred Texans failed to
+follow her over the rocks. Mounted on the best horses in the remuda,
+knowing the ways of wild cattle and the lay of the land ahead, she took
+after the first puff of dust she saw and followed it till she smelled
+smoke. If her steer turned back, she ran him down and roped him, and if
+her escort did not show up by that time, she hog-tied her catch and went
+on. It was a wild, free life, and she threw herself into it recklessly,
+glorying in the unholy joy of beating them at their own game. She rode
+with Brigham, and Hardy Atkins; uncouth mountain men, and raw-boned
+nester kids; and finally, when the time was ripe, she picked out Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>Bowles was mounted on his top horse, Wa-ha-lote, and he rode proudly
+along behind Brigham, for in the rough and tumble of cross-country
+running he was holding his own with the best. A bunch of wild cattle
+sprang up suddenly from their hiding place on a far point; for a moment
+they stood staring, their ears silhouetted against the sky, and the keen
+eyes of the straw-boss read their earmarks like a book.</p>
+
+<p>"They's two Bat Wing steers in that bunch," he said. "Head 'em off,
+Bowles, and drive 'em down the cañon!"</p>
+
+<p>Then Bowles leaned forward in his saddle and raced them for the high
+ground. He headed them, and they doubled to beat him back. Once more he
+headed them off, while the outfit went on with its circle, and just as
+they stopped to look him over again he saw a horse coming down on his
+right. It was Dixie, mounted on her favorite roan, and she motioned to
+him to swing around on the left. Then the riding began all over again,
+for the steers were wild as bucks and they knew every trail on the
+bench; but the shod horses were too fast for them over the rocks, and as
+their hoofs began to get hot from the friction they turned and dashed
+for the rim.</p>
+
+<p>From the high ridge where the circle was led, to the bottom cañon where
+the hold-up herd lay, the land fell away in three benches, each a little
+narrower, each a little steeper at the jump-off&mdash;and Bowles and Dixie
+Lee went over the first pitch hot-foot on the heels of their quarry.
+They raced back and forth on the second terrace, trying to head the
+cattle down a natural trail; but now a wild, self-destroying panic came
+upon them and they took off over the rough ground.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll dare you to follow me!" cried Dixie, turning her eager roan after
+them; and helter-skelter over the rough rocks, swinging and ducking
+under trees and jumping over boulders and bushes, she went spurring
+after the cattle. Behind her came Bowles, his eyes big with excitement,
+staring at her madcap riding with the fear of death in his heart. Down
+over the rough jump-off they went, the dust and smoke from
+friction-burnt hoofs striking hot in their faces as they rode, and by
+the grace of God somehow they reached the bench below.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't ride over there!" he entreated, as the cattle scampered on toward
+the last pitch; but Dixie laughed at him, loud and shrill.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you take a dare?" she taunted, raising her quirt to strike; and
+before Bowles could say a word, Wa-ha-lote grabbed the bit and went
+after her like a rocket. Whatever his master thought, it was outside of
+Wa-ha-lote's simple code to let any horse give him his dust. Wild with
+terror and excitement, the big steers made straight for the jump-off,
+which was high and steep; over they went, with Dixie after them, and
+then, like a bolt from behind, Wa-ha-lote leaped over the rampart and
+went plowing down the slope. Twice he jumped as he came to dykes of
+rock, and Bowles stayed with him like a hurdler; then, with a lightning
+scramble over the loose stones, he took the trail from the roan and went
+pounding down the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Tree limbs reached down to brush Bowles off, sharp stubs threatened
+momentarily to snag his legs, and boulders to dash his brains out if he
+fell, but the lion-hearted Wa-ha-lote had asserted his mastery and
+Bowles could only hang on. At the bottom of the slide they crashed
+through a dead-limbed cedar, sending the bone-dry sticks flying in every
+direction; and when Bowles swung up into the saddle he was thundering
+across the flat and the steers were at his bits. Vague wisps of smoke,
+white and smelling like a blacksmith-shop, leaped up as the harried
+brutes skated over the rocks, and Bowles knew that his battle was won.
+Once in the soft sand of the creek bed they would never turn back to the
+heights, for their feet were worn to the quick. But it had been a hard
+race&mdash;even Wa-ha-lote was slowing down, and Dixie Lee was nowhere in
+sight.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden doubt assailed Bowles, and he tugged sharply at the bit; he
+pulled down to a walk and looked behind; then, as he saw no sign, he
+stopped short and let the cattle go. For a tense minute he listened
+while Wa-ha-lote puffed like a steamboat; then, with a grave look on his
+face, he turned and rode back up the hill.</p>
+
+<p>"O Miss Lee!" he shouted. "Dixie!"</p>
+
+<p>And a thin answer came from the slope above.</p>
+
+<p>"Catch my horse!" it said. "He's down in the gulch!"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles stared about and caught sight of the red roan's hide as he stood
+behind some trees; then, with his rope about its neck, he went spurring
+up the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Dixie Lee was lying very awkwardly among the rocks at the foot of a
+scrubby juniper, and at the first glance Bowles knew she was hurt. Not
+only was her hat gone and her stout skirt ripped and torn, but her face
+was very pale and her lips drawn tight together.</p>
+
+<p>"Horse fell with me," she said, greeting him with a fleeting smile;
+"hurt my knee right bad. First time I've known him to do that&mdash;say, help
+me out of these rocks."</p>
+
+<p>Very tenderly Bowles reached down and raised her to her feet; then, with
+one arm about his neck, she tried to hobble away, but at the second hop
+she paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Nope&mdash;hurts too bad," she said; "put me down."</p>
+
+<p>But Bowles did nothing of the kind. He took her up in his strong young
+arms and carried her down the hill. He even wished it were farther, but
+she spied a bed of leaves under a cedar and ordered him to put her
+there. Then she looked up at him curiously and for a while lay very
+still.</p>
+
+<p>"What you got there?" she inquired, as he came back holding his hat, and
+Bowles showed her a crownful of water that he had brought from a pool in
+the gulch.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" sighed Dixie, and drank out of it without scruple, long and deep.
+"Say, that's good," she said; "now pour some on my hands&mdash;they're all
+scratched up." He did that too, and loaned her his neck handkerchief to
+sop up the last of the wet.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a wonder you wouldn't ask a few questions," she observed at
+length, bathing her grimy face with the handkerchief. "'How did it
+happen?' or 'How're you feeling?' or something like that!"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled naturally at him now, fluffing out her dark hair that hung
+like an Indian's in heavy braids; and Bowles' face lighted up and then
+flushed a rosy red.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you are feeling better," he said, sitting down off to one side,
+and decorously regarding his wet hat, "so how did it happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," began Dixie, ruefully inspecting her torn hands, "all I can
+remember is feeling my horse going down and jerking my feet out of the
+stirrups&mdash;then I fetched up in that juniper. I scrambled out the minute
+I struck&mdash;afraid old Rufus would fall on me&mdash;and that's where I hurt my
+knee&mdash;I bumped it against a rock."</p>
+
+<p>She felt the injured limb over carefully and shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I can't travel on that for a while," she said. "So get me
+your coat to put under it and prop it up, and we'll talk about something
+pleasant. It'll be all right, I reckon, after I rest a while, but that
+fall certainly jarred me up.</p>
+
+<p>"Say," she observed, as Bowles came back with his coat, "that was pretty
+good, wasn't it, what I was telling you the other day&mdash;about nursing you
+back to health and strength. Looks like you're the nurse, the way it
+turns out. But you're going to make a good one," she went on, as he
+tucked the coat under her knee; "I can see that. Now, most people, when
+you get a hurt, or a fall, or something, they come rushing up to where
+you're making faces and ask a lot of foolish questions&mdash;'Are you hurt?'
+and 'Did you fall?' and all that, until you want to kill 'em. But you
+haven't hardly said a word."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Bowles, blushing and looking away. "I'm awfully sorry you
+fell&mdash;hope I didn't make you. Is there anything more I can do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "We all take a fall once in a
+while. I feel kind of weak and trifling right now&mdash;but don't go! No, I
+want you here for company!"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles had stood up on a pretext of looking after the horses, but Dixie
+was firm.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you stay," she said, as he explained that she might wish to be
+alone. "You're out West now, Bowles, and you remember what Hardy Atkins
+told you&mdash;'if a lady asks you to take a letter, <i>take it</i>!' Of course,
+that was none of Hardy's business, but that's the rule out here, and I
+want you to come back and sit down. No, not away over there&mdash;I want you
+right up close!"</p>
+
+<p>Bowles came back as readily as a dog, but he did not sit very close. For
+some reason unknown to himself he assumed that she would be embarrassed,
+not only by their isolated position but by the intimacies which had
+arisen between them. Moved by a strong and humane purpose, he had
+gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the hill; but hardly
+had he felt her arm about his neck, her breath against his cheek, and
+her heart against his breast, when the dimensions of his world had
+suddenly narrowed down, and there was only Dixie Lee and him. And now he
+was still dazed and breathless, afraid of himself, and not trusting in
+his strength&mdash;and yet he would do anything to please her.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on over here," she coaxed, patting the leaves by her side, and
+Bowles came as near as he dared. "Now tell me some stories," she said,
+settling back and closing her eyes. "Ah, this will be fine&mdash;tell me
+something interesting, so I can forget that knee. It sure aches&mdash;when I
+think about it&mdash;but I believe there's something in mind-cure. Go ahead
+and talk. Where'd you learn to ride so well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that?" beamed Bowles. "Do you think I can ride? Well, I'm not so
+bad, over the rocks, you know. I used to ride to the hounds. We chased
+foxes through the woods, leaping stone walls and five-bar gates and all
+that, and, really, I used to enjoy it. Nothing like cow-punching, of
+course, but great sport all the same. I remember once we were out at
+Clarendon&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He fell into the details of a fox hunt&mdash;the first time he had spoken of
+his past life&mdash;and Dixie was careful not to interrupt him. Then he told
+of his life in the military school, where they taught boys the
+cavalryman's craft, and Dixie lay quiet and listened. If her knee hurt
+she did not know it, for she was piecing out his career. School,
+college, country club, one after the other he alluded to them, but even
+in his boyish enthusiasm he was careful to mention no names; and as he
+wandered on with his stories Dixie Lee wondered who he was. Certainly no
+inconsiderable man in his own country, and yet here he was, an ordinary
+hired hand, punching cows for forty-five a month. But why? And if he had
+followed her to the end of the world to win her heart, why did he not
+talk of love to her, now that they were there together? And when he had
+taken her in his arms, when he had carried her under the tree and pulled
+off her boot and tucked his coat under her knee, why had there been no
+caress, no look, no unnecessary attentions to show that he really cared?
+Dixie May opened her eyes and gazed out at him through half-closed
+lashes, and somehow she liked him better&mdash;he seemed to be different from
+the rest.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles," she said at last, "you're an awfully interesting man, but
+there are some things I can't understand. There's something mysterious
+about you. I know you must be all right, because I met you at Mrs.
+Melvine's, but at the same time you're hiding out like an ordinary
+horse-stealing Texican. What are you up to, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I thought you knew all about that," explained Bowles, the old
+baffling smile coming back into his eyes. "Don't you remember, I told
+you about it on the train?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I remember, all right," answered Dixie. "But you didn't tell me
+very much&mdash;and then you told me different at Chula Vista. I thought I
+had a line on you once, but you're too deep for me. What's this I hear
+about a girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"A girl?" repeated Bowles, with questioning gravity. "Why, what do you
+mean? What did you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"A girl back in New York," continued Dixie, glancing at him shrewdly as
+she hazarded a guess&mdash;and as she gazed he flushed and looked away.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever you have heard," he said at last, "I have nothing to be
+ashamed of&mdash;would you like me to get you some water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Mr. Bowles," cried Dixie reproachfully, "are you trying to
+side-step me on this?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed!" replied Bowles, settling back with masterful calm. "What
+is it you have heard&mdash;and what would you like to know?"</p>
+
+<p>He paused and regarded her expectantly, and Dixie saw that she was
+called. A shadow passed over her face; a shadow of annoyance, and of
+suspicion, perhaps, as well; but she felt the rebuke of his frankness
+and pursued her inquiry no further.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps you are right," she said, as if answering an unspoken
+reproof. "It was nothing to your discredit, Mr. Bowles; and I am sure it
+is none of my business. I guess I'm kind of spoiled out here&mdash;I get to
+joshing with these cowboys until I don't know anything else. I believe I
+would like that drink."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hat
+full of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished and
+looked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You've
+been so good to me here&mdash;what have I gone and done now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's not you at all," he assured her, and then his voice broke and
+he faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no, Mr. Bowles," soothed Dixie, laying her hand on his arm. "Not a
+word&mdash;I don't know anything about you&mdash;I was only making it up."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Bowles, and drew his arm away. He looked out at the horses
+for a moment, poured the water out of his hat, and turned back, his old
+smiling self.</p>
+
+<p>"How is your knee now?" he inquired kindly. "Do you think you can ride?
+I suppose we ought to be going pretty soon."</p>
+
+<p>Dixie glanced over at him and her heart sank&mdash;she had observed these
+sudden changes in Bowles before, and even his boyish smile could not
+lighten the veiled rebuke. When Bowles had thoughts that were
+anti-social he was always unusually kind, and his way of expressing
+disapproval was to tactfully change the subject. And now he was talking
+of going! Dixie scowled and felt of her knee, and rose stiffly to her
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you're in such a hurry," she sulked; but Bowles was at her
+side in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" he cried, catching her as she poised for a limp.
+"Please don't do that! Let me carry you, when the time comes, but we
+will rest as long as you please."</p>
+
+<p>He passed a compelling arm about her and lowered her gently to her
+place; then he sat down beside her, and breathed hard as he set her
+free.</p>
+
+<p>"Really," he murmured, "we don't seem to understand each other very
+well, Miss Lee!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's because neither one of us is telling the truth!" observed Dixie
+with a certain bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>They sat for a moment in silence, and then she turned about and looked
+him squarely in the eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles," she said, in measured tones, "who are you, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who&mdash;me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you know
+me! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's."</p>
+
+<p>"There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name,
+and I'm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" questioned Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I've
+got <i>something</i> on my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I&mdash;I hope I haven't given
+offense in any way. You were hurt, you know&mdash;and I was a little
+excited&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfect
+gentleman&mdash;I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do with
+women, have you, Mr. Bowles?"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at her
+mystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, and
+decided to tell the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was just
+thinking&mdash;well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then."</p>
+
+<p>She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and his
+brain whirled as he looked away.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make an
+exception of you."</p>
+
+<p>He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went to
+do her will.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you while
+you mount?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!"</p>
+
+<p>And then he gathered her into his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him&mdash;and Dixie forgot
+and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that was
+to pay you for being nurse."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>A COMMON BRAWL</h3>
+
+
+<p>There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times and
+makes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen a
+kiss&mdash;for the first time in his life&mdash;and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. He
+had stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then they
+had ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss had
+meant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. So
+they rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word.</p>
+
+<p>Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, with
+a sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But the
+jealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rode
+along on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. Hardy
+Atkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horse
+in against his stirrup he hissed:</p>
+
+<p>"You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!" and went muttering on his
+way.</p>
+
+<p>This roused Bowles from his reverie, and he began to think. If Hardy
+Atkins had noticed a change, there were others who would do the same.
+How Atkins had guessed, or what the clue had been, he could not tell;
+but, having been carefully brought up, Bowles knew exactly what he ought
+to do. Before the first rumor had run its course it was his duty as a
+gentleman to go to Henry Lee and make a report of the facts; then, if
+any exaggerated statements came to his ears later, Mr. Lee would know
+that his conduct had been honorable and that green-eyed envy was raising
+its hateful head. So, without more ado, he rode up to the point of the
+herd and saluted the austere boss.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lee," he said, as that gentleman turned upon him sharply, "I am
+sorry, but Miss Lee had a very bad fall this morning and she has gone
+ahead to camp."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I saw her," returned the boss. "What about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I was afraid she might not mention it to you, or might minimize
+her hurts, but as a matter of fact she fell on a steep hill, and if it
+hadn't been for a juniper tree she might have been seriously injured. As
+it is, her knee gave her quite a lot of trouble and I had to help her to
+mount."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" commented Henry Lee, and glanced at him again. "Well, what is it?"
+he inquired, as Bowles still rode at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," stammered Bowles, holding resolutely to his task, "I
+thought perhaps you might want to ride ahead and help her off her
+horse."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the boss looked him over, then he grunted and bowed quite
+formally.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Will you call Hardy to take my
+place?"</p>
+
+<p>He waited until Hardy Atkins had started, and then put spurs to his
+horse, and when the cowboys reached camp he was busy about the tent. The
+next day Dixie did not ride out on the round-up, and when they came back
+she was gone. "Back to the home ranch," the cook reported, and he added
+that she was not very lame; but the cow-punchers glared at Bowles as if
+he had crippled her for life. And not only that, but as if he had done
+it on purpose.</p>
+
+<p>"These blankety-blank tenderfeet!" commented Hardy Atkins by the fire.
+"They can make an outfit more trouble than a bunch of Apache Indians. I
+cain't stand 'em&mdash;it's onlucky to have 'em around."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather be short-handed, any time," observed Buck Buchanan sagely.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, there's Dix," continued Hardy, with a vindictive glance at Bowles;
+"worth any two men in the outfit&mdash;ride anywhere&mdash;goes out with this
+tenderfoot and comes within an ace of gittin' killed. She raced with me,
+rode with Jack and Slim, and left the Straw a mile&mdash;the Hinglishman
+comes in behind her, crowds her outer the trail, and if it hadn't been
+fer that juniper she'd a-landed in them rocks."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles looked up scornfully from his place and said nothing, but Brigham
+appeared for the defense.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, what do <i>you</i> know about it?" he growled. "You wasn't there. Who
+told you he crowded her out of the trail?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he says so himse'f!" protested Atkins, pointing an accusing
+finger at Bowles. "Didn't he come into camp and tell all about it? I
+believe that he was tryin' to do it so he could git a chance to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Atkins," said Bowles, rising to his feet and speaking tremulously,
+"I shall have to ask&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But that was as far as he got. With a tiger-like spring the ex-twister
+was upon him, and before he could raise his hands he struck him full in
+the face.</p>
+
+<p>"You will talk about my gal, will ye?" he shouted, as Bowles went down
+at the blow. "Stand up hyer, you white-livered Hinglishman; I'll learn
+you to butt in on my game!"</p>
+
+<p>"Here! What're you tryin' to do?" demanded Brigham, leaping up hastily
+and confronting his old-time enemy. "You touch that boy again, and I'll
+slap yore dirty face off!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's been gittin' too important around hyer!" cried Atkins
+noisily. "And he's been talkin' about my gal&mdash;I won't take that from no
+man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" sneered Brigham, drawing closer and clenching his hands. "You're
+mighty quick to hit a man when he ain't lookin'&mdash;why don't you take a
+man of yore size now and hit me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't got no quarrel with you!" raved Hardy Atkins. "That's the
+feller I'm after&mdash;he's been talkin' about my gal!"</p>
+
+<p>"He has not!" replied Brigham deliberately. "He never talked about no
+gal, and I'll whip the man that says so&mdash;are you bad hurt, pardner?"</p>
+
+<p>He knelt by the side of the prostrate Bowles, who opened his eyes and
+stared. Then he looked about him and raised one hand to his cheek, which
+was bruised and beginning to swell.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll learn you to cut me out!" taunted Hardy Atkins, shaking his fist
+and doing a war-dance. "I'll make you hard to ketch if you try to butt
+in on me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, shut up!" snarled Brigham, lifting his partner up. "You're brave
+when a man ain't lookin', ain't ye? Here, ketch hold of me, pardner, and
+I'll take you to yore bed."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles dropped down on his blankets, still nursing his aching head; but
+in the morning he rose up with a purposeful look in his eye. He was a
+long way from New York and the higher life now, and that one treacherous
+blow had roused his fighting blood. For the courage which prompts a man
+to strike in the dark, he had little if any respect, and he went
+straight over to Hardy Atkins the moment he saw him alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you hit me when I wasn't looking last night.
+Next time you won't find me so easy&mdash;but be so good as to leave Miss
+Lee's name out of this."</p>
+
+<p>"Oho!" taunted the cow-puncher, straightening up and regarding him with
+a grin. "So you want some more, hey? That crack on the jaw didn't
+satisfy you. What's the matter with yore face this mawnin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never you mind about my face," returned Bowles warmly. "If you are so
+low as to be proud of a trick like that, you are a coward, and no
+gentleman, and&mdash;put up your hands!"</p>
+
+<p>He squared off as he spoke, falling back upon his right foot and
+presenting a long, menacing left; but Hardy Atkins only laughed and
+loosened his pistol.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, go on away," he said. "D'ye think I want to <i>box</i> with you? No, if
+you git into a fight with me you're liable to stop 'most anythin'&mdash;I'll
+hit you over the coco with <i>this</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>He laid his hand on the heavy Colt's which he always wore in his shaps,
+and gazed upon Bowles insolently.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't run no blazer over me, Mr. Willie-boy," he went on, as Bowles
+put down his hands. "You're out West now, where everythin' goes. If
+you'd happen to whip me in a fist-fight I'd git my gun and shoot you, so
+keep yore mouth shut unless you want to go the limit. And while we're
+talkin'," he drawled, "I think you might as well drift&mdash;it's goin' to be
+mighty onhealthy around hyer if I ketch you with Dixie again."</p>
+
+<p>"I asked you to leave her name out of this," suggested Bowles, trying
+bravely to keep his voice from getting thin. "If you've got a quarrel
+with me, well and good, but certainly no gentleman&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, go on away from me," sneered Hardy Atkins, waving him wearily
+aside. "You seem to think you're the only gentleman in the outfit! Go
+chase yoreself&mdash;you make me tired!"</p>
+
+<p>The sight of grinning faces about the corral recalled Bowles to the
+presence of an audience and, choking with anger and chagrin, he went off
+to saddle his horse. Ever since his arrival Hardy Atkins had ignored
+him, glancing at him furtively or gazing past him with supercilious
+scorn. Now for the first time they had met as man to man, and in that
+brief minute the ex-twister had shown his true colors. He was a man of
+treachery and violence, and proud of it. He did not pretend to fair play
+nor subscribe to the rules of the game. He did not even claim to be a
+gentleman! There was the crux, and Bowles labored in his mind to find
+the key. How could he compete&mdash;in either love or war&mdash;with a man who was
+not a gentleman?</p>
+
+<p>It was Brigham who gave the answer, and to him it was perfectly simple.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, as they rode back together from the circle, "he's
+warned you out of camp&mdash;what ye goin' to do about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what can I do?" faltered Bowles, whose soul was darkened with
+troubles.</p>
+
+<p>"Fight or git out," replied Brigham briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"But he won't fight fair!" cried Bowles. "He hits me when I'm not
+looking; then when I offer to fight him with my hands he threatens me
+with a pistol. What can a man do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Threaten 'im with yourn!" returned Brigham. "He won't shoot&mdash;he's one
+of the worst four-flushers in Arizona! He's jest runnin' it over you
+because he thinks you're a tenderfoot."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know he won't shoot?" inquired Bowles, to whom the whole
+proposition was in the nature of an enigma. "What does he carry that
+pistol for, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jest to look ba-ad," sneered Brigham, "and throw a big scare into
+strangers. <i>I</i> ain't got no six-shooter, and he don't run it over me,
+does he? He's afraid to shoot, that's what's the matter&mdash;he knows very
+well the Rangers would be on his neck before he could cross the line.
+Don't you let these Texicans buffalo you, boy&mdash;the only time they're
+dangerous is when they're on a drunk."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you mean," began Bowles hopefully, "if I'd struck him this morning
+he wouldn't have used his gun?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," admitted Brig, "he might've drawed it&mdash;and if you'd whipped him
+he might've taken a shot at you. But you got a gun too, ain't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es," acknowledged Bowles; "but I don't want to kill a man. I
+wouldn't like to shoot him with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, for Gawd's sake, <i>take it off</i>!" roared Brigham. "If he'd
+shot you this mornin' he could a got off fer self-defense! Turn it over
+to the boss and tell him you don't want no trouble&mdash;then if Hardy shoots
+you he'll swing fer it!"</p>
+
+<p>"But how about me?" queried Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"You're twice as likely to git shot anyway," persisted Brig, "with a gun
+on you. If you got to pack a gun, leave it in yore bed, where you can
+git it if you want it; but if the other feller sees you're heeled, and
+he's got a gun, it makes him nervous, and if you make a sudden move he
+plugs you. But if you ain't armed he don't dare to&mdash;they're awful strict
+out here, and these Rangers are the limit. Hardy won't shoot&mdash;you ain't
+afraid of 'im, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o," said Bowles; "not if he'd fight fair."</p>
+
+<p>"D'ye think you could whip 'im?" demanded Brigham eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"I can try," responded Bowles grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the talk!" cheered Brigham, leaning over to whack him on the
+back. "Stand up to 'im! He's nothin' but a big bluff!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that," grumbled Bowles, with the affair of the
+morning still fresh in mind; "I'm afraid he'll hit me with his gun."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here, we'll fix that," said Brig, hastily stripping the heavy
+quirt from his wrist. "You turn yore pistol over to the boss and take
+this loaded quirt&mdash;then if Hardy offers to club you with his gun you
+knock his eye out with <i>this</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>He made a vicious pass into the air with the bludgeon-like handle,
+holding the quirt by the lash, and passed it over to Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you're heeled!" he said approvingly. "That's worse'n a gun, any
+time, and you kin hit 'im as hard as you please. Jest hang that on yore
+wrist, where it'll be handy, and turn that cussed six-shooter in."</p>
+
+<p>The matter was still a little mixed in Bowles' mind, and he felt that he
+was treading upon new and dangerous ground, but his evil passions were
+still afoot and he longed gloomily for his revenge. So when they got
+into camp that evening he went over to Henry Lee's tent, with Brigham to
+act as his witness.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Lee," he said, speaking according to instructions, "I've had a
+little difficulty with one of the boys, and I'd like to turn in my gun.
+I don't want to have any trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mr. Bowles," answered the boss very quietly. "Just throw it
+on my bed. What's the matter, Brig?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothin' much," replied Brigham. "You saw it yorese'f&mdash;last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Um," assented Henry Lee, glancing for a moment at Bowles' skinned
+cheek. "Well, we don't want to have any racket now, boys&mdash;not while
+we've got these wild cattle on our hands&mdash;and I'm much obliged. Hope you
+don't have any more trouble, Mr. Bowles."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed them out of the tent without any more words, and they proceeded
+back to the camp. A significant smile went the rounds as Bowles came
+back from the tent, but in the morning he went to the corral as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd got yore time," ventured Buck Buchanan, as Bowles began
+to saddle up; and as the word passed around that he had not, Hardy
+Atkins rode over to inquire.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this I hear?" he said. "I thought you was goin' to quit."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you were mistaken, Mr. Atkins," answered Bowles politely. "I am
+not."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what did you see the boss fer? Makin' some kick about me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your name was not mentioned, Mr. Atkins," replied Bowles, still
+politely. "I simply turned over my gun to Mr. Lee and told him I'd had
+some trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's nothin' to what you <i>will</i> have!" scowled the ex-twister
+hatefully. "I can tell you that! And I give you till night to pull. If
+you don't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He paused with meaning emphasis and turned his horse to go, but Henry
+Lee had been watching him from a distance and now he came spurring in.</p>
+
+<p>"Hardy," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave Bowles strictly alone.
+He's turned his gun in to me and is tending to his own business, so
+don't let me speak to you again. D'ye understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir!" mumbled the cow-puncher, fumbling sullenly with his
+saddle-strings; but his mind was not turned from his purpose, as Bowles
+found out that same night.</p>
+
+<p>They were swinging around toward the south and west, raking the last
+barren ridges before they started the day-herd for home; and in the
+evening they camped in the open and threw their beds down anywhere.
+After a hasty supper by the fire, Bowles spread out his blankets, coiled
+up his bed-rope, and rode forth to stand the first guard. For Bowles was
+a top hand now, whatever his enemy might say, and he had his choice of
+guards. It was very dark when he came in at ten-thirty, and he was too
+sleepy to notice the change, but after he had slipped under his
+tarpaulin he felt something through the bed. It was his bed-rope,
+stretched carelessly across the middle, from side to side, and he
+grumbled for a moment to himself as he squirmed down where it would not
+hurt him. Then he went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>After a man has ridden hard all day and stood his guard at night, a
+little thing like a rope under his bed is not likely to disturb his
+dreams&mdash;the way the pea did the soft-sleeping True Princess&mdash;but with
+this particular rope it was different. Hardy Atkins had stretched it
+there with malice aforethought; and when, later in the night, he saddled
+his snorting night horse and prepared to ride out to the herd, he tied
+the two ends into a loop and silently stepped away with the slack. Then
+he took a turn around the horn, put spurs to his horse, and went
+plunging out into the night.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden yank almost snapped Bowles in two in the middle; he woke up
+clutching, to find himself side-swiping the earth; then an agonizing
+series of bumps and jolts followed, and he fetched up against a juniper
+with a jar that rattled his teeth. There was a strain, a snap, and as
+the rope parted he heard a titter, and a horse went galloping on. It was
+a practical joke&mdash;Bowles realized that the moment he woke up&mdash;but the
+terror of that first grim nightmare wrenched his soul to the very
+depths. He came to, cursing and fighting, still bound by the loop of the
+lariat and half-buried in the wreck of the juniper. Then he jerked
+himself loose and sprang up, staring about in the darkness for some
+enemy that he could kill. The titter of the galloping horseman gave the
+answer, and he knew it was Hardy Atkins. Hardy had given him till
+nightfall to quit camp or look out for trouble. This was the trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Bowles spread out his bed as best he could and slept where he lay till
+dawn. Then he went to Henry Lee and said he would like his gun. His
+hands were bloody and torn from contact with the brush, and there was a
+fresh welt above one eye that gave him a sinister leer. There was no
+doubt about it&mdash;Bowles was mad&mdash;and after a cursory glance the boss saw
+he was out for blood.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a moment, Mr. Bowles," he said, advancing to the fire. "Boys," he
+continued, addressing the smirking hands who stood there, "I make it a
+rule on my round-ups that nobody carries a gun. That includes you, too,
+Mr. Bowles," he added meaningly. "Mosby, get me a gunny-sack."</p>
+
+<p>With the gunny-sack under one arm the wagon-boss went the rounds, and
+when he had finished his trip the sack was full of guns.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll just keep these till we get back to the ranch," he observed.
+"And," he added, "the next man that picks on Bowles will have to walk to
+town. Hardy, were you in on this?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir!" replied Atkins stoutly. "I don't know a thing about it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, be mighty careful what you do," charged Henry Lee severely.
+"Brig, throw that herd on the trail&mdash;we might as well hit for the
+ranch."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DEATH OF HAPPY JACK</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Bowles rode back to the Bat Wing Ranch he was a hard-looking
+citizen. His aunt, the hypothetical Mrs. Earl-Bowles, would scarcely
+have recognized him; Mrs. Lee started visibly at sight of his battered
+face; and Dixie smiled knowingly as she glanced at his half-closed eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Aha, Mr. Man," she said, "it looks like you'd been into a juniper,
+too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, something like that," acknowledged Bowles, gazing lover-like into
+her eyes; and from that he led the conversation into other channels,
+less intimately associated with common brawls. For though Bowles had
+given way to his evil passions and had even gone so far as to call for
+his gun in order to beard his rival, he did not wish it known to his
+lady. As he contemplated her grace in a plain white dress, and the
+witchery of her faintest smile, it seemed indeed a profanation of the
+sacred Temple of Love to so much as allude to a fight. Undoubtedly in
+the wooings of the stone age the males had competed with clubs, but
+certainly for no woman like this. Love, as Bowles had learned it from
+the poets, was above such sordid scenes; and as he had learned it from
+her&mdash;when she had chastened his soul with a kiss&mdash;ah, now he could sing
+with old Ben Jonson and the deathless Greeks:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Drink to me only with thine eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I will pledge with mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or leave a kiss within the cup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I'll not ask for wine."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Here was the shrine at which he worshiped, and he wished no carnal
+thought to enter in. So he spoke to her softly and went his way, lest
+some one should read his heart and break the spell with jeering.</p>
+
+<p>The dust of a day's hard driving was on his face; there was a red weal
+over one eye and a bruise on his bearded cheek, but he was a lover
+still. Dixie knew it by his eyes, that glowed and kindled; by his voice,
+whose every word veiled a hidden caress; and she greeted the others
+coldly from thinking of this one who had come. Then she dissembled and
+went down among them, but her ways were changed and she only smiled at
+their jests.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, Dix," challenged Hardy Atkins at last, thrusting a grimy hand down
+into his shap pocket, "look what I got fer ye!"</p>
+
+<p>He drew out a money-order ring that he had won in a mountain poker game,
+and flashed the stone in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a genuwine, eighteen-carat diamond," he announced. "Come over hyer
+and let's see which finger it fits. If it fits yore third finger, you
+know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I like your nerve," observed Dixie Lee, smiling tolerantly with
+Gloomy Gus. "'Come over hyer!' eh? It's a wonder you wouldn't come over
+here&mdash;but I don't want your old ring, so don't come."</p>
+
+<p>"W'y, what's the matter?" inquired Hardy Atkins, who loved to do his
+courting in public. "You ain't goin' back on me, are you, Dix?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if I went very far back on <i>your</i> trail," answered Dixie, "I
+reckon I'd find where you <i>got</i> that ring. What's the matter? Wouldn't
+she have it? Or did that other girl give it back?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned away with a curl on her lips, and when he saw that she meant
+it, Hardy Atkins was filled with chagrin. From a man now, that would be
+a good joke; but from Dixie&mdash;well, somebody must have blabbed! He turned
+a darkly inquiring eye upon Bowles, and looked no farther; but Henry Lee
+had spoken, and all that rough work was barred. Still there were ways
+and ways, and after thinking over all the dubious tricks of the cow camp
+he called in his faithful friends and they went into executive session.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, hyer," expounded the ex-twister, as they got together over the
+butchering of a beef, "the way to bump that Hinglishman off is to make a
+monkey of 'im&mdash;skeer 'im up and laugh 'im out o' camp. He's so stuck on
+himse'f he cain't stand to be showed up&mdash;what's the matter with a fake
+killin'? Here's lots of blood."</p>
+
+<p>He cupped up a handful of blood from the viscera of the newly killed
+beef, and his side partners chuckled at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me do the shootin', and I'll throw in with ye," rumbled Buck
+Buchanan.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll hold the door on 'im," volunteered Poker Bill.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, who's goin' to play dead?" grinned Happy Jack. "Me? All right.
+Git some flour to put on my face, and watch me make the fall&mdash;I done
+that once back on the Pecos."</p>
+
+<p>So they laid their plans, very mysteriously, and when the big poker game
+began that night there was no one else in on the plot. Buck had the
+pistol he had killed the beef with tucked away in the slack of his belt;
+Jack had changed to a light shirt, the better to show the blood; and
+Hardy Atkins was a make-up man, with bottled blood and a pinch of flour
+in his pockets to use when the lights went out.</p>
+
+<p>The game was straight draw poker, and the prize a private horse. Ten
+dollars apiece was the price of a chance, and it was freeze-out at
+four-bits a chip. That served to draw the whole crowd, and as the
+contest narrowed down to Buck Buchanan and Happy Jack, the table was
+lined three deep.</p>
+
+<p>"How many?" asked Buck, picking up the deck.</p>
+
+<p>"Gimme one!" said Jack, and when he got it he looked grave and turned
+down his hand, the way all good poker players do when they have tried to
+fill a flush and failed.</p>
+
+<p>"I bet ye ten!" challenged Jack.</p>
+
+<p>"Go you&mdash;and ten more!" came back Buck.</p>
+
+<p>"Raise ye twenty!"</p>
+
+<p>"What ye got?" demanded Buck, shoving his beans to the center, and then,
+with a sudden roar, he leaped up and seized the stakes. "Keep yore hands
+off that discyard!" he bellowed, hammering furiously on the table. "You
+lie, you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><i>Whack!</i> came Happy Jack's hand across his face, and Buchanan grabbed
+for his gun. Then, as the crowd scattered wildly, he thrust out his
+pistol and shot a great flash of powder between Happy Jack's arm and his
+ribs.</p>
+
+<p>"Uh!" grunted Jack, and went over backward, chair and all.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hardy Atkins blew out the lamp, and the riot went on in the dark.
+Bowles was only one of ten frantic punchers who struggled to get out the
+door; Brigham Clark was one of as many more who burrowed beneath the
+beds; and when Hardy Atkins lit the lamp and threw the dim light on
+Happy Jack's wan face he was just in time to save his audience. True,
+the older punchers had been in fake fights before; but they had been in
+real ones, too&mdash;where the bullets flew wide of the mark&mdash;and this had
+seemed mighty real. In fact, if one were to criticize such a finished
+production, it was a little too real for the purpose, for the conduct of
+Bowles was in no wise different from the rest. There had been a little
+too much secrecy and not quite enough team-work about the play, but
+Poker-face Bill was still at his post and the victim was caught in the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my Gawd!" moaned Hardy Atkins, kneeling down and tearing aside
+Jack's coat. "Are you hurt bad, Jack?"</p>
+
+<p>The red splotch on his shirt gave the answer, and the room was silent as
+death. Then Poker Bill began to whisper and push; delighted grins were
+passed and stilled; and, moving in a mass, with Bowles up near the
+front, the crowd closed in on the corpse.</p>
+
+<p>"He's dead!" rumbled Buck Buchanan, making a fierce gesture with his
+pistol. "I don't make no mistakes. You boys saw him cheat," he went on,
+approaching nearer to the crowd. "And he slapped me first! You saw that,
+didn't you, Bowles?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hush up!" cried Hardy Atkins, tragically shaking his fallen friend;
+and then as he worked up to the big scene where Happy Jack was to come
+to life and run amuck after Bowles, the door was kicked open and gloomy
+Gus strode in.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with you fellers?" he demanded, his voice trembling
+with indignation at the thought of his broken sleep, and then, at sight
+of Jack, he stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack's dead," said Hardy Atkins, trying hard to give Gus the wink; but
+the cook was staring at the corpse. Perhaps, being roused from a sound
+sleep, his senses were not quite as acute as usual; perhaps the
+play-acting was too good; be that as it may, his rage was changed to
+pity, and, he took the center of the stage.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, poor Jack!" he quavered, going closer and gazing down upon him.
+"Shot through the heart. He's dead, boys; they's no use workin' on
+'im&mdash;I've seen many a man like that before."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's try, anyway!" urged Atkins, in a desperate endeavor to get
+rid of him. "Go git some water, Gus! Haven't you got any whisky?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's dead," mourned the cook; "they's no use troublin' him&mdash;it's
+all over with poor old Jack. You'll never hear <i>him</i> laugh no more."</p>
+
+<p>A faint twitch came over the set features of the corpse at this, and
+Hardy Atkins leaped desperately in to shield his face.</p>
+
+<p>"He was a good-hearted boy," continued Gloomy Gus, still intent upon his
+eulogy&mdash;and then Happy Jack broke down. First he began to twitch, then a
+snort escaped him, and he shook with inextinguishable laughter. A look
+went around the room, Brigham Clark punched Bowles with his elbow and
+pulled him back, and then Gus glanced down at the corpse. His peroration
+ceased right there, and disgust, chagrin, and anger chased themselves
+across his face like winds across a lake; then, with a wicked oath, he
+snatched the gun away from Buck and struggled to get it cocked.</p>
+
+<p>"You young limb!" he raved, menacing Happy Jack with the pistol and
+fighting to break clear of Buck. "You'll play a trick on me, will ye&mdash;an
+old man and punched cows before you was born! Let go of that gun, Mr.
+Buchanan! I'll show the blankety-blank&mdash;&mdash;" And so he raged, while the
+conspirators labored to soothe him, and Brig dragged Bowles outside.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>A CALL</h3>
+
+
+<p>There is a regrettable but very well defined tendency in human nature
+which prompts the author of a miss-fire revenge to take it out on the
+dog. Certainly there was no more innocent party to the inveigling of
+Gloomy Gus than Bowles, and yet for some reason Hardy Atkins and his
+comrades in crime chose to gaze upon him with a frown. After laboring
+far into the night they had finally persuaded the cook that it was all a
+mistake; that no insult was intended to his years; and that it would be
+contrary to those high principles of Southern chivalry of which he had
+always been such an illustrious exponent to report the fake fight to the
+boss. Then they had busied themselves in the early morning with chopping
+wood and packing water, and similar ingratiating tasks, with the result
+that, when Henry Lee came down after breakfast, there was no complaint
+from anybody. But when he had let it pass, and started off for Chula
+Vista, it was cloudy in the south for Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>But your true lover, with the wine of ecstasy in his veins, and haunting
+feminine glimpses to catch his eye, is not likely to be scanning the
+horizon for a cloud the size of a man's hand. Bowles' troubles began
+that evening when, after an arduous day in the saddle, he returned to
+his own social sphere. For two months and more Samuel Bowles had been a
+cow-hand. He had slept on the ground, he had eaten in the dirt, and when
+luck had gone against him he had learned to swear. But now, as he was
+riding past the gate, Mrs. Lee, in a charming house-gown, had waylaid
+him with a smile; he paused for a friendly word, and his breeding had
+prompted him to linger while she chatted; then she had invited him to
+dinner&mdash;not supper&mdash;and he had forgotten his lowly part. Forgotten also
+was the warning of Hardy Atkins, now so sullen in his defeat, and
+everything else except the lure of dainty living and the memory of a
+smile. So, after a hasty shave and a change to cleaner clothes, he
+stepped out boldly from the ranks and walked up to the big white house.</p>
+
+<p>The chill and gusty days of early spring had passed and the soft warmth
+of May had brought out all the flowers. Along the gallery the
+honeysuckle and the Cherokee climbers were fragrant with the first
+blossoms of summer, and Bowles was glad to tarry beneath them when Mrs.
+Lee met him hospitably at the stoop. In the far west the Tortugas were
+passing through the daily miracle of sunset, and the hush of evening had
+settled upon all the land.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mrs. Lee," sighed Bowles, as he contemplated with a poet's eye the
+beauties of nature, "now I understand how you can live here for thirty
+years and never go back to New York. Such illumination&mdash;such color! And
+from the hill here, it is so much more glorious! Really, in spite of the
+loneliness, I almost envy you those thirty years!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," admitted Mrs. Lee, leading him to a rawhide chair beneath the
+honeysuckle, "it <i>is</i> beautiful. I like it&mdash;in a way&mdash;but still, I can
+never forget New York. It offers so much, you know, of music and art and
+society; and yet&mdash;well, Henry needed me, and so I stayed. But I have
+tried to give my daughter what advantages I could. I have a sister, you
+know, living in New York&mdash;Mrs. Elwood Tupper&mdash;perhaps you know her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the name seems familiar," returned Bowles glibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she's my sister," resumed Mrs. Lee, after glancing at him
+curiously. "Dixie was with her all last winter&mdash;I thought perhaps you
+might have met her there?"</p>
+
+<p>Once more she gazed at him in that same inquiring way, and Bowles
+wondered if she had heard anything, but he was quick to elude the point.</p>
+
+<p>"Hmm," he mused, "Tupper! No, I hardly think so. When I return, though,
+I shall be glad to look her up&mdash;perhaps I can convey some message from
+you. Your daughter must find it rather close and confining in the city,
+after her fine, free life in the open. Really, Mrs. Lee, I never knew
+what living was until I came out here! Of course, I'm very new yet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," agreed Mrs. Lee, who knew a few social sleights herself, "Dixie
+did complain of the confinement, but she&mdash;&mdash;<i>O Dixie</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mother!" replied a dutiful voice from within.</p>
+
+<p>"Come out on the gallery&mdash;Mr. Bowles is here. But she met some very nice
+people there&mdash;some of the real old families, you know&mdash;and I
+thought&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The door opened at this point, and Bowles leapt to his feet in
+astonishment. It was a different Dixie that appeared before him&mdash;the
+same bewitching creature who had dazzled his eyes at the Wordsworth
+Club, and she wore the very same gown. And what a wonderful
+transformation it seemed to make in her&mdash;she was so quiet and demure
+now, and she greeted him in quite the proper manner.</p>
+
+<p>"I was just telling Mr. Bowles, Dixie," continued Mrs. Lee, still
+holding to her fixed idea, "that you went out quite a little in New
+York&mdash;and perhaps you might have met back there."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the two eyed each other shrewdly, each guessing how much
+the other had said, and then Bowles opened up the way.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, really, Miss Lee," he exclaimed, still gazing at her with admiring
+eyes, "you do look familiar in that dress! Perhaps we have met in a
+crush, like ships that pass in the night? May I ask at what function you
+wore this charming gown?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, Mr. Bowles," returned Dixie May; "but, rather than run
+over the whole list and recall a winter's agony, let's take it for
+granted that we met. It's a fine, large place to come away from, isn't
+it&mdash;dear old New York? Wasn't the slush of those sidewalks something
+elegant? And that steam heat! My! It never gets as hot as that out here.
+Yes, indeed, Mother, I'm sure Mr. Bowles and I have met before; but,"
+she added, and here her voice changed, "since he's traveling incognito,
+changing his name as a garment and not getting any letters from home,
+perhaps it's just as well not to dwell upon the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Dixie, child!" protested Mrs. Lee. "What in the world do you
+mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing at all, Mother, except that he is our guest. Shall we go in now
+to dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>They went in, and throughout the rest of the evening Bowles was guiltily
+conscious of a startled mother's eyes which regarded him with anxious
+scrutiny at first and then became very resolute and stern. Mrs. Lee had
+solved her problem, whatever it was, and settled upon her duty. Bowles
+felt a social chill creep into the air as he rose to go, and he braced
+himself for some ultimatum; but his hostess did not speak her thoughts.
+There was no further allusion to New York, or his alias, or the fact
+that he had acted a lie. All those things were taken for granted, and he
+left with a balked feeling, as if he had failed of some purpose. Her
+very silence clutched at his heart, and her passive hand-touch as they
+parted. Dixie, too, seemed to share in the general aloofness. She had
+said good-night without any friendly grip of the fingers, looking at him
+very straight, as if to fathom his deceit.</p>
+
+<p>Bowles lay awake that night and thought it out, and he saw where he had
+made his mistake. From the first his manner had been evasive almost to
+mendacity, and, with both Dixie and her mother, he had made a mystery of
+his past. Now the time for explanations was gone, and he was reaping his
+just reward. He should have taken Dixie into his confidence when they
+were alone beneath the cedars; he should have answered that question of
+hers when she asked it&mdash;but now it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles," she had said, "who are you, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>And when he had evaded her, she had never asked again. And now, through
+the same damnable ineptitude, he had estranged her mother and lost his
+welcome at the big house. All the explanations in the world would not
+square him now, for one deceit follows another and his second word was
+no better than his first. He could see with half an eye that Mrs. Lee
+distrusted him. He must seem to her candid mind no less than a polite
+adventurer, a ne'er-do-weel young profligate from the East with
+intentions as dark as his past. Nor could he bring himself to blame her,
+for the inference was logical&mdash;if a man conceals his identity and denies
+his acquaintances and friends, surely there must be something shameful
+that he is at such pains to hide.</p>
+
+<p>But the way out? That was what kept Bowles awake. Certainly, if he were
+a gentleman, he would stay away from the house. Nor would it be wholly
+honorable to waylay Dixie May and explain. And, besides, there was
+nothing to explain. He had references, of course, but if he gave them,
+his aunt would discover his whereabouts and summon him home&mdash;and then
+there was Christabel!</p>
+
+<p>The memory of those prearranged meetings at his aunt's swept over him,
+and he shuddered where he lay. Dear, pretty, patient Christabel! What if
+she should sense this conspiracy to make him marry her and lose that
+friendly smile? What if she should blush as he had blushed at each
+chance tête-à-tête, gazing nervously into his eyes to guess if he would
+yield? And to wonder if that was love! Ah no, he could never do that!
+Rather than inflict such torture upon her he would flee to the depths of
+the wilderness and hide until she was married. But his safety lay only
+in flight, for his aunt was a resolute woman, with tears and sighs at
+her command, if all else failed. Yes, he must run away&mdash;that was the way
+out.</p>
+
+<p>And it would solve all his problems at once. There would be no lame
+explanations to make at the house, no cheap jealousies with Hardy
+Atkins, no breaking of his cherished dream of seeing the West. He would
+move on into the White Mountains and explore their fastnesses with
+Brigham. Or, lacking Brigham, he would plunge into that wilderness
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>The harsh clangor of Gloomy Gus's dishpan cut short his fitful sleep,
+and he rolled out of bed with his mind made up to quit. At breakfast he
+said nothing, bolting his food with the rest of them, and followed on to
+the horse corral for a private word with Brig. But right there fate
+played him a scurvy trick, and disrupted all his schemes, for as he
+stepped around behind the corral Hardy Atkins strode in upon him and
+made signs to certain of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, lookee here, Mr. Man," he said, and he said it quietly for once,
+"you been four-flushin' around hyer long enough, and we give you warnin'
+to git. We got yore record and we know what you're after, so don't hand
+us out any bull. Yore name ain't Bowles and you're aimin' at Dix, but
+she's got too many good friends. Now we've let you off easy, so far, but
+Gawd he'p you if we come ag'in. Ain't that so, boys?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet it is!" answered three or four, and the rest of them looked
+their disdain.</p>
+
+<p>But an unreasoning anger swept over Bowles at the very first word, and
+he returned the sneer with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you have threatened me before, but I am not
+afraid of you. You cannot frighten me away."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I cain't, cain't I?" jeered Hardy Atkins, while his friends rumbled
+threats from behind. "Well, <i>poco pronto</i> you're liable to change yore
+mind. You come into this country on a Hinglish trot and we thought you
+was a sport, but now that we know better, you got to make good or git.
+Ain't that so, boys?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet it is!" roared the bunch, and Atkins hitched up his shaps.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said. "You got a job with this outfit by claimin' that
+you could ride. <i>Now</i>&mdash;you're so brave&mdash;either you ride that Dunbar
+hawse the way you said or we kick you out o' camp! You can take yore
+choice."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Bowles; "I'll ride the horse."</p>
+
+<p>"Like hell you will!" sneered the gang in a chorus, but Bowles did not
+heed their words.</p>
+
+<p>"Any time you put the saddle on him," he said, "I'll ride him."</p>
+
+<p>At this they stood irresolute, unable to make him out. On the morning
+that he had ridden Wa-ha-lote he was a tenderfoot, not knowing one horse
+from another, but now he had seen the worst. And yet he would climb up
+on Dunbar!</p>
+
+<p>"Come on&mdash;let's rope 'im!" urged Hardy Atkins, but he did not move out
+of his tracks. "No, the boss is comin' back," he said. "Let's wait till
+we're hyer by ourse'ves. All right, Mr. Bronco-bustin' Bowles, we'll fix
+you good and plenty&mdash;the first time the folks leave the house. And
+meantime, if you value yore health, you better stay down on low ground."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go wherever I please," answered Bowles; but he stayed down on
+the low ground.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HORSE THAT KILLED DUNBAR</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the Homeric simplicity of the cow camps, where the primitive emotions
+still rule, any soul-stirring which cannot find its expression in curses
+is pretty sure to seek the level of laughter. The boys were profoundly
+moved by Bowles' declaration of intention, but after gazing upon him for
+a spell in mingled incredulity and awe, their lips began to curl.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw&mdash;<i>him</i>!" they said. "Him ride Dunbar? Umph-umm! We'll wake up some
+mornin' and find him gone!"</p>
+
+<p>Then, as a morning or two passed and Bowles was still in his place, they
+began to lapse into jest.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Henry will shore be s'prised when he comes back from town,"
+observed blithesome Happy Jack. "He'll find Bowles ridin' Dunbar with a
+hackamore and feedin' him sugar from his hand. Big doin's soon to come,
+boys&mdash;boss and family goin' down to Chula Vista to-morrer."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we better hog-tie Hinglish, then," grumbled Buck Buchanan; "he'll
+never last till mornin'. Gittin' right close on to that time!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never you mind about Hinglish," retorted Brigham Clark, whose loyalty
+had been fanned to a flame. "If it was you, Buck Buchanan, we couldn't
+see you fer dust right now. They ain't a man of ye dares to <i>say</i> he'd
+ride Dunbar, let alone the doin' of it. Will you ride him second if he
+throws Bowles off? Well, keep yore face shut, then! The whole bunch of
+ye ought to be canned fer tryin' to git 'im killed!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let 'im go on away, then!" burst out Hardy Atkins. "<i>We</i> never
+told 'im to ride Dunbar&mdash;we told 'im to quit his four-flushin' and
+either make good or git. There's the road down there&mdash;let 'im take to
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>He jerked an imperious hand at Bowles, who answered him with a scowl.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will kindly mind your own business, Mr. Atkins," he purled, "I
+shall certainly be greatly obliged."</p>
+
+<p>He gave each word the Harvard accent and tipped it off with venom, for
+Bowles was losing his repose. In fact, he was mad, mad all over, and at
+every remark he bristled like a dog. A concatenation of circumstances
+had thrown him into the company of these Texas brawlers, but he aimed to
+show by every means in his power his absolute contempt for their
+trickery and his determination to stand on his rights. He had said he
+would ride Dunbar, and that was enough&mdash;he had given his word as a
+gentleman. Therefore, he resented their insinuations and desired only to
+be left alone. Certainly he had enough on his mind to keep him occupied
+without responding to ill-natured remarks.</p>
+
+<p>Fate was piling things up on poor Bowles, and he earnestly longed for
+the end. There is a cynic's saying that every time a man gets into
+trouble his girl goes back on him, just to carry out the run of luck;
+and while of course it isn't true, it seemed that way to Bowles. Perhaps
+his own manner had had something to do with it, but, the morning after
+his rebuff, Dixie greeted him almost as a stranger, and, falling back
+shortly afterward into her old carefree way of talking, she began to
+josh with the boys. Then she took a long ride with Brigham, a ride that
+left him all lit up with enthusiasm and made him want to talk about
+love. As a matter of fact, Dixie had sensed something big in the air and
+was anxiously ferreting it out, but Bowles did not know about that. All
+he knew was that he disapproved of her conduct, and wondered vaguely
+what her mother would say. Not that it was any of his business, but he
+wondered all the same; and, wondering, shook his head and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>But three days of flirting and sleuthing brought nothing to Dixie's net.
+From the cook down, the outfit was a solid phalanx against her&mdash;they
+would talk and smile but they never showed their hand. One clue and only
+one she had&mdash;there seemed to be an unusual interest in when she was
+going to town. First on one pretext and then on another they inquired
+casually about the date, and if her folks were going along too. So,
+whatever the deviltry was, it was something that called for secrecy&mdash;and
+it was due on the day they left home. She looked them over as they
+gathered about the evening fire, and smoothed her hair down
+thoughtfully&mdash;and the next morning she started for town.</p>
+
+<p>The sale of his steers was making Henry Lee a lot of trouble&mdash;and the
+holding of them as well. Not being able to find a buyer at his price, he
+set the cowboys to fence mending&mdash;lest the outlaws should breach the
+wires&mdash;and went back and forth to town. And this morning his wife went
+with him, sitting close behind the grays, with Dixie riding fast behind.
+Their dust changed to haze on the horizon before any one moved a hand,
+and then Hardy Atkins turned on Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Here's where we see yore hand. I'll
+saddle that hawse if you'll ride 'im, but don't make me that trouble fer
+nothin', because if you <i>do</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shut up!" snapped Bowles, whose nerves were worn to a frazzle.
+"What's the use of talking about it? Put the saddle on him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Holy Jehu!" whistled Atkins. "Listen to the boy talk, will you? Must
+have somethin' on his mind&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, quit yore foolin'!" put in Brigham abruptly. "We'll all git fired
+fer this, and him liable to git killed to boot, so hurry up and let's
+have it over with!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go ye!" laughed the ex-twister, skipping off with a sprightly
+step. "Come on, boys; it'll take the bunch of us&mdash;but I'll saddle old
+Dunbar or die! 'O-oh, hit's not the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse's
+'oofs; hit's the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway!'
+E-e-e&mdash;hoo!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and cut another caper as he ended this bald refrain, and
+Brigham glowered at him balefully.</p>
+
+<p>"'Hit's!'" he quoted. "'<i>Hit's!</i>' Listen to the ignorant cracker! I
+never seen a Texican yet that could talk the straight U. S.! But go on
+now, you low-flung cotton-pickers, and I'll fix Bowles fer his ridin'!"</p>
+
+<p>They hustled away as he spoke, the best of them to wrangle Dunbar, and
+the rest to admire the sight. Here was an event that would go down in
+Bat Wing history, and only the cook stayed away. Life had been stale,
+flat, and unprofitable to Gloomy Gus since he delivered the oration over
+Happy Jack, and the very care with which all hands refrained from
+speaking of it showed how poignant the joke had been. Faces which had
+looked pleasant to him before were repulsive now, and in this last assay
+on Bowles he saw but a recrudescence of the horse-play which had worked
+such havoc with his own pride. Therefore, he was morose and sullen and
+stayed with his pots and pans.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to warn you, Mr. Bowles," he called, as Bowles came,
+full-rigged, from the bunk-house. "I want to give you warnin'&mdash;thet
+hawse is dangerous!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mr. Mosby," answered Bowles absently, as he started for the
+round corral.</p>
+
+<p>"He done killed a man!" croaked Gloomy Gus. "A right good cow-puncher,
+too&mdash;I knowed him well. Jim Dunbar&mdash;the top rider of the outfit. Don't
+say I never warned you, now&mdash;keep off that hawse!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Mr. Mosby," responded Bowles, but he never missed a stride.
+The time had come to show himself a man, and, like an athlete who goes
+forth to win, his thoughts were on the battle.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to set him limber," reiterated Brigham in his ear. "Ride 'im
+like a drunk man, and whip 'im at every jump&mdash;it gives you somethin' to
+do. Grab 'im with yore spurs every time he lights; and look out he don't
+bite yore legs. Here, take my quirt&mdash;it's heavier&mdash;and if he starts to
+go over backwards, hit 'im hard between the ears. You kin ride 'im,
+pardner, I know it! Jest keep cool and don't get stiff!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Brig," muttered Bowles; "all right!" But his eyes were on
+the corral.</p>
+
+<p>A cloud of dust rose on the still morning air like smoke from some
+red-burning fire, and through the poles of the fence he could see horses
+running like mad, and men with trailing ropes. Then, as the stampede
+rose to a thunder of feet, he heard a shrill yell of triumph, and
+scrambling men jerked the bars from the gate. The current of galloping
+slackened, it paused, and the leaders shot out the gap with a sea of
+high-flung heads behind. When the dust of their outrush had settled,
+there was only one horse left inside&mdash;the horse that killed Dunbar&mdash;and
+he lay grunting in the dirt.</p>
+
+<p>"Fetch me that hackamore!" yelled Hardy Atkins from where he knelt on
+the brute's straining neck. "Now bring me that well-rope&mdash;we'll tie up
+his dad-burned leg!"</p>
+
+<p>They gave him the ropes as he called for them, and he rigged them with
+masterful hands&mdash;first the rough-twisted hackamore, to go over his head
+and cut off his breath; then the two-inch well-rope, to hang from his
+neck and serve later to noose his hind foot. Then all hands tailed on to
+the throw-rope; they swayed back as he rose to his feet; and when Dunbar
+went to the end of it, the heave they gave threw him flat. He leaped up
+and flew back on his haunches, and the rope halter cut off his breath.
+His sides heaved as he struggled against it; his eyes bulged big and he
+shook his head; then, with a final paroxysm, he sank to his knees and
+they slackened away on the rope. A single mighty breath, and he was up
+on his feet and fighting; and they choked him down again. Then Hardy
+Atkins stepped in behind and picked up the end of the shoulder rope,
+where it dragged between his legs, and drew the loop up to his hocks. A
+jerk&mdash;a kick at the burn&mdash;and Dunbar was put on three legs. He fought,
+because that was his nature, but it was in vain; they trussed his foot
+up high, tied the rope's end to the neck loop, and clapped a broad blind
+over his eyes. So Dunbar was conquered, and while he squealed and
+cow-kicked, they lashed Bowles' saddle on his bowed-up back and slipped
+the bit between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>There he stood at last, old Dunbar the man-killer, sweating and
+trembling and cringing his head to the blind, and Bowles jumped down off
+the fence.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said, "you can let down his foot. I'll pull up the
+blinder myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Say yore prayers first, Mr. Man," gritted Atkins, lolling and mopping
+his face. "If he's half as good as his promise, you'll never git off
+alive!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely," observed Bowles grimly. "You can let his foot down now."</p>
+
+<p>"Hey! Git a move on!" yelled a cow-puncher up on the fence. "They's
+somebody comin' up the road!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, let 'em come," drawled Atkins carelessly. "They're hurryin' up to
+see the show. Step up and look 'im over!" he grinned at Bowles. "No
+rush&mdash;you got lots of time!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let his foot down!" snarled Bowles, his nerves giving way to anger.
+"I'm not&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's Dix!" clamored the cow-puncher on the fence-top. "It's Dix!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a rush for the fence to make certain, and as Dixie Lee dashed
+in through the horse lot, Hardy Atkins threw down his hat and cursed.
+Then he stood irresolute, gazing first at Bowles and then at the fence,
+until suddenly she slipped through the bars and came striding across the
+corral.</p>
+
+<p>"Oho, Hardy Atkins," she panted, as she tapped at her boot with a quirt.
+"So this is what you were up to&mdash;riding horses while Dad went to town!
+Didn't he tell you to keep off that Dunbar horse? Well, then, you
+just&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused as she sensed the tense silence, and then she saw Bowles,
+walking resolutely up to the horse. In a flash it all came clear to
+her&mdash;the feud, the fights, and now this compact to ride.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles!" she cried, raising her voice in a sudden command&mdash;but
+before she could get out the words Hardy Atkins laid his hand on her
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You go on back to the house!" he said, fixing her with his horse-taming
+eyes. "You go back where you belong! I'm doin' this!"</p>
+
+<p>"You let go of me!" stormed Dixie Lee, making a savage pass at him with
+her quirt&mdash;and then a great shout drowned their quarrel and made them
+forget everything but Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>The obsession of days of brooding had laid hold upon him and left him
+with a single, fixed idea&mdash;to ride Dunbar or die. And to him, no less
+than to Hardy Atkins, the coming of Dixie Lee was a disappointment. For
+a minute, he too had stood irresolute; then, with the simplicity of
+madness, he went straight to the blindfolded horse and began to lower
+his foot. As the quarrel sprang up, he gathered his reins; without
+looking back, he hooked his stirrup; and then, very gently, he rose to
+the saddle. Then the shout rang out, and he reached down and twitched up
+the blind.</p>
+
+<p>Gazing out from beneath the band which had held him in utter darkness,
+the deep-set rattlesnake eye of Dunbar rolled hatefully at the man on
+his back. He crooked his neck and twisted his malformed head, and Bowles
+felt him swelling like a lizard between his knees&mdash;then, with a squeal,
+he bared his teeth and snapped at his leg like a dog. The next moment
+his head went down and he rose in a series of buck-jumps, whirling
+sideways, turning half-way round, and landing with a jolt. And at every
+jolt Bowles' head snapped back and his muscles grew stiff at the jar.
+But just as the world began to grow black, and he felt himself shaken in
+his seat, the trailing neck rope lapped Dunbar about the hind legs and
+he paused to kick himself free.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a moment's respite, but it heartened the rider mightily. He
+caught the stirrup that he had lost, wiped the mist from his eyes, and
+settled himself deep in the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"Good boy! Stay with 'im!" yelled the maniacs on the fence-posts; and
+then old Dunbar broke loose. The man never lived that could ride
+him&mdash;Bowles realized that as he clutched for the horn&mdash;and then his
+pride rose in him and he sat limber and swung the quirt. One, two, three
+times, he felt himself jarred to the center, and the blood burst
+suddenly from his mouth and nose and splashed in a crimson flood. He had
+no knowledge of what was happening now, for he could not see; and then,
+with a heart-breaking wrench, he felt himself hurled from the saddle and
+sent tumbling heels over head. He struck, and the corral dirt rose in
+his face; there was a cloud before him, a mist; and then, as the
+dizziness vanished, he beheld the man-killer charging at him through the
+dust with all his teeth agleam.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a>
+<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h3>"THE MAN-KILLER CHARGED AT HIM THROUGH THE DUST"</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>"Look out!" yelled the crowd on the fence-top. "Look out!"</p>
+
+<p>And Bowles scrambled up and fell over to one side. His knees were weak;
+they would not bear him; and through the dust cloud he saw Dunbar slide
+and turn again. Then of a sudden he was in a tangle of legs and stirrups
+and striking feet, and somebody grabbed him by the arm. Three pistol
+shots rang out above him; he was snaked violently aside; and old Dunbar
+went down like a log. Somebody had killed him, that was certain; but it
+was not Brigham, for he could tell by the characteristic cursing that it
+was his partner who had pulled him out and was dragging him across the
+corral. He blinked and opened his eyes as he fetched up against the
+fence&mdash;and there was Dixie Lee, with a big, smoking pistol in her hand,
+striding after him out of the dust.</p>
+
+<p>She looked down at him, her eyes blazing with anger; and then, snapping
+the empty cartridges out of the Colt's, she handed it back to a puncher.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "I hope you boys are satisfied now!" And without a
+second look at Brigham, Bowles, Hardy Atkins, or the remains of Dunbar,
+she turned and strode back to the house.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Bat Wing Bowles got up out of the dirt he was shaken in body and
+spirit. His corporeal frame felt as if it had been passed through a
+carpet-beater, and he had lost some of his most precious illusions.
+Certainly, if there was any way by which a tenderfoot might hope to
+achieve a little hard-earned fame in the Far West, it was not by riding
+bronks; and now, before he could wipe the blood from his nose, they were
+blaming him for all their troubles.</p>
+
+<p>"The blank-blanked greenhorn!" cursed Hardy Atkins, pacing to and fro
+and gazing at the hulk of Dunbar. "I <i>tol'</i> 'im to keep off that hawse!
+Never would've let 'im rode 'im&mdash;not for a thousand dollars! And then,
+the minute my back's turned&mdash;and Dix right there to copper the play&mdash;he
+goes and pulls off <i>this</i>! But I don't care&mdash;<i>I</i> never done nothin'! You
+boys seen 'im&mdash;he done it himse'f!"</p>
+
+<p>And then, all the anger and blood-lust that had been in Bowles' heart
+for days went suddenly to his right hand, and, putting his shoulder
+behind it, he smote the ex-twister on the jaw. It was a wicked blow,
+very much like the one he had received himself, and it laid the false
+cow-puncher low. He came up reaching for his gun, and Bowles knocked him
+down again, and took the gun away. Then he passed it on to Brigham, and
+offered to fight him some more&mdash;or anybody! A raging devil of combat
+seemed to possess him, and he shouted for war, and more war. The cowboys
+drew away from him as from a man who has lost his right mind, and it was
+not until Brigham had cajoled him into dipping his hot head into the
+horse-trough that Bowles left off his raving. A drink of Mr. Mosby's
+strong coffee, and a rest on his bed by the sheds, and his sanity was
+completely restored&mdash;but his illusions were lost forever!</p>
+
+<p>Never again would Samuel Bowles try to beat the cow-puncher at his own
+game; never would he mount a wild horse; and never would he put faith in
+womankind. Not out West, anyway. To be sure, Dixie Lee had saved him
+from the man-killer, but she had done it in such a way as to injure his
+pride irreparably. And if anybody had cooled his fevered brow after the
+accident, it certainly was not Dixie, but Brigham Clark, when he ducked
+his head in the horse-trough. A sudden aversion to his surroundings&mdash;a
+stern dislike for sentiment and the Bat Wing&mdash;came over Bowles as he lay
+moping in his blankets, and, rising on his elbow, he called to Brigham.</p>
+
+<p>"Brig," he said, "I'm going to quit this accursed ranch&mdash;would you mind
+catching my private horse?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ner mine neither!" fulminated Brig. "I jest been waitin' fer ye to
+say the word&mdash;been ready myse'f fer a week!"</p>
+
+<p>He hopped on his horse as he spoke, and rode out into the pasture, and
+as he returned with their private mounts Gloomy Gus came over from the
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>"What ye goin' to do, Brig," he inquired; "quit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," answered Brig, as he lashed their beds on his spare horse;
+"gittin' too bad fer me. Next thing you know, somebody'd git killed."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," agreed Gus gloomily; "gittin' pretty bad around hyer.
+Cow-punchin' ain't what it used to be. Well, I'm sorry to see you go."</p>
+
+<p>He put them up a lunch and watched them off, and then turned back to his
+pots and kettles, grumbling and shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>That was their only farewell, but as they rode out the gate, Dixie Lee
+appeared at the big house door and looked after them as they passed.
+Their mounts alone told the story of their departure, and their beds on
+the horse behind; but though she knew they were quitting, she stood
+silent and made no sign.</p>
+
+<p>"Want to say good-by?" inquired Brig, glancing up at her from under his
+hat, but Bowles did not reply. A deadly apathy had succeeded his
+passion, and he was sullen and incapable of higher thoughts. All he
+wanted now was to get away&mdash;after that he could think what to do.</p>
+
+<p>They turned their horses' heads toward Chula Vista, where they must go
+to draw their time, and after they had ridden a mile Bowles suddenly
+turned in his saddle&mdash;but Dixie had passed inside. A deep and melancholy
+sadness came over him now, and he sighed as he slumped down in his seat,
+but Brigham did not notice his silence. At noon they ate as they rode,
+getting a drink at a nester's windmill, and at night they camped by a
+well. Then it was that Bowles woke up from his brooding and saw that he
+was not alone in his mood&mdash;Brigham, too, was downcast and wrapt up in
+his thoughts. His mind ran quickly back to ascertain the cause, and he
+remembered the cherished job.</p>
+
+<p>For one short, eventful month Brigham Clark had been a boss. A
+straw-boss, to be sure, but still a boss&mdash;and now he had lost his job.
+Never again, perhaps, would he rise to the proud eminence of a
+"straw"&mdash;and yet he had quit his place instantly to throw in his lot
+with him. A wave of compassion and self-reproach swept over Bowles at
+the thought, and he forgot his own ugly mood.</p>
+
+<p>"Brig," he said, as they sat close to their tiny fire, "I'm sorry you
+had to quit. If it hadn't been for me, and Hardy Atkins, you'd be back
+there now, on your job. It might have led to something better, too. Mr.
+Lee often said&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, fergit it," grumbled Brig morosely. "<i>I</i> didn't want the job.
+What's the use of bein' a puncher, anyway? They's nothin' in it but hard
+work. I've got a good mind to hike back to the Gila and go to pitchin'
+hay."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if I'm in your way at all," urged Bowles, "don't hesitate to say
+so. I only proposed this White Mountain trip&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right," broke in Brig. "I'll be glad to git away from it
+all&mdash;git where they ain't no girls, nor mail, nor nothin'. Up there in
+them big pine trees where a man can fergit his troubles. But I want to
+go back past the Bat Wing. I told Dix all about it last week, and I
+shore want to bid her good-by. There's a good girl&mdash;Dix&mdash;but she can't
+understand. She says if I had any nerve I'd go and take a chance&mdash;marry
+the girl and wait and see what happened to me&mdash;my girl down on the
+river, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Bowles nodded gravely and waited for him to go on. It was a month since
+Brigham had spoken of his girl, and he had never discussed the affair
+since that first rush of confidences, until now suddenly he dived into
+the midst of it.</p>
+
+<p>"No," continued Brig, gazing mournfully at his dead cigarette; "Dix is
+all right, but she don't know them Mormons like I do. She don't know
+what they're liable to do. This feller that's tryin' to marry my girl is
+the bishop's own son&mdash;he's that feller I beat up so bad when I took to
+the hills a while back&mdash;and he's bound to do me dirt. My girl won't
+marry me, nohow&mdash;not lessen I become a Mormon&mdash;and shore as you're
+settin' there, boy, if I take that gal from the bishop's son, I'm
+elected to go on a mission!</p>
+
+<p>"I know it! Hain't the old man got it in fer me? And then what's to
+become of my wife? Am I goin' to leave her fer two years and that
+dastard a-hangin' around? Not on yore life&mdash;if they summoned me fer a
+mission, I'd either take my wife along or I'd kill that bishop's
+son&mdash;one or the other. But that's the worst of it&mdash;the bishop's kid is
+on the spot, and I'm hidin' out like a coyote. My girl keeps a-writin'
+like she never gets no letters, and beggin' me to come back and be good!
+But I can't do it&mdash;that's all&mdash;I been a renegade too long."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," suggested Bowles, after a long pause, "perhaps we could go by
+that way. Maybe her folks are keeping your letters from her, or
+something like that. If there is anything I can do for you, Brig, don't
+hesitate to ask for it. I might go around and see her for you&mdash;or if you
+need money&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," protested Brigham petulantly; "money won't buy me nothin' with
+her. I'm up ag'in the whole Mormon church&mdash;and if you knew half of what
+I do about 'em, you'd know that you can't buck these bishops. The Mormon
+folks is fine people&mdash;they'll feed you, and help you, and do anything in
+the world fer you&mdash;but them priests and apostles and bishops&mdash;umph-umm!
+The more you know about 'em, the worse it scares you up&mdash;and I'm shore
+down on their black books. No, pardner, I ain't got a chanc'st, so let's
+fergit it. I talked it all over with Dix, and she kinder heartened me
+up; but it ain't no use. My girl don't like me enough to cut loose and
+quit her people, and I won't turn Mormon fer nobody&mdash;so there you are.
+Come on, let's go to bed!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a hard and tragic problem, and long after the fatalistic Brig had
+gone to sleep, Bowles lay awake and tried to find a way out. His own
+petty griefs seemed sordid by the side of it, and all the way to town he
+turned it over in his mind. But, now that he had dismissed it forever,
+Brigham Clark became his old carefree self again.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what we'll do!" he exclaimed, as they talked of their
+trip to the hills. "We'll hunt up old Bill Jump, and show him the latest
+in lies. I betcher I can make that old feller ashamed of himse'f&mdash;he's
+jest one of these here common, long-haired liars that don't know nothin'
+but to go you one better, anyway. But you wait till I pull that
+Hippodrome stuff on 'im&mdash;I betcher that'll make his jaw drop. Never did
+git to spring that on the boys&mdash;say, tell me that ag'in about the clown
+that fished up bulldogs outer the lake&mdash;and them elephants comin' over
+the waterfall! Yes, sir; if old Bill is up in them White Mountains,
+we'll certainly make him look sick!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a glorious thing to contemplate, and, once in town, they made
+haste to lay in their supplies; but when Brigham came back from his
+interview with the boss Bowles could see that his enthusiasm had been
+shaken. For reasons of his own, Bowles had preferred not to meet the
+Lees, and he had asked Brig to convey his regrets and a release for his
+two months' pay. If eighty dollars would compensate for the defunct
+Dunbar, Mr. Bowles was satisfied; otherwise, he would be glad to meet
+the difference. But the trouble in Brigham's eye was not one of dollars
+and cents&mdash;he had something big on his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Say," he said, as he beckoned Bowles to a corner of the corral, "what
+d'ye think Mrs. Lee sprung on me when I went around fer my pay? And, by
+the way, they was a deputy sheriff inquirin' fer you when I come out by
+the desk, so come away from that gate&mdash;but what d'ye think she said?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I'm sure I can't imagine," answered Bowles, with his old-time
+calm. "What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she had a big yeller telegraph in her hand that she was kinder
+wavin' around&mdash;I never did find out what it was all about&mdash;but when I
+come in to the hotel she flew at me like and says:</p>
+
+<p>"'Mr. Clark, do you know who that young man is you're travelin' with?'</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, the way she said it made me mad clean through, and I says to
+her:</p>
+
+<p>"'No, Mrs. Lee, I don't&mdash;and, what's more, I don't care! He's a good
+pardner, that's all I know&mdash;and that's all I want to know!'</p>
+
+<p>"And then I turned around and walked out. I don't know what them Lees
+have got to be so proud about, the way old Henry used to cave around,
+but I showed her, by grab, they was one puncher she couldn't run it
+over! She always did make me mad," observed Brig, as he stole quiet
+glances at his friend, "but I knowed mighty well you wasn't no <i>crook</i>
+and&mdash;and I don't care <i>what</i> you done!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, thank you just as much&mdash;I haven't done anything, Brig," answered
+Bowles with a reassuring smile. "But," he added, "that's no reason for
+not getting out of town."</p>
+
+<p>They packed their horse hurriedly, and Bowles rode on ahead, but once on
+the open prairie he gave way to a hearty laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Brig," he said, "what in the world do you think I've done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I dunno," mumbled Brig, looking him over shrewdly. "Of course, I
+knowed all along they was nothin' to that Christabel talk&mdash;stands to
+reason a man wouldn't leave home for a little thing like that. About
+that aunt, now, that sounds a little more likely&mdash;but I've knowed
+fellers that come out here jest fer fun."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but this deputy sheriff&mdash;and all that!"</p>
+
+<p>"We-ell," drawled Brigham, with a sly twinkle in his eye, "I heeard a
+little more from him than what I told you at the first!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed! And what else did you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;&mdash;" Brig stopped and stuck his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "He
+said it was a woman that wanted you!"</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt!" exclaimed Bowles, striking his leg; but Brig only spat and
+grinned.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" he said, and grinned again.</p>
+
+<p>"I have it!" cried Bowles. "Mrs. Lee wrote back and told her sister I
+was here&mdash;and then my aunt began telegraphing! That telegram Mrs. Lee
+had was from her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure thing," agreed Brig; and Bowles looked up to find him smirking.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's the matter?" he demanded. "Say, you're pretty smart,
+aren't you, Brig?" he observed, with pitying scorn. "They don't put one
+over on you very often, do they?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeedy!" swaggered Brigham; and then they both laughed&mdash;to
+themselves. But the jest put an effectual end to the discussion, since
+Brigham did not know what it was he was supposed to have discovered, and
+Bowles took no pains to enlighten him. It was enough that Brig
+considered him a very gay dog indeed, and he did not deny the soft
+impeachment. So, each with his satisfied smile, they jogged along across
+the plains, dragging their pack animal behind them and heading for the
+Bat Wing.</p>
+
+<p>All that day they rode on through the mellow sunshine, and the next
+morning found them still on their way; but just as the well-remembered
+ranch came into view there was a rattle of wheels from behind and they
+swung out to give Henry Lee the road. He was driving the fiery grays,
+and they fought gamely against the delay, but he pulled them down to a
+walk while he handed Bowles a note.</p>
+
+<p>"Telegram for you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Brig, stop at the ranch when
+you go by&mdash;I want to talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>There was much more that might have been said, and Mrs. Lee smiled
+approvingly at Bowles, but the grays were within sight of the haystack
+and they cut the talk short with a bolt. Then Bowles glanced through the
+telegram and thrust it into his shirt.</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt&mdash;&mdash;" he began, and as the grin on Brig's face widened, he
+stopped short and fell into a sulk. "No use telling you anything, Brig,"
+he said at last; "you can guess by the color of my eye."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" said Brig, after a moment of baffled silence. "Yore aunt seems
+to think a whole lot of you. And, speakin' about women-folks, what's
+this comin' down off the hill?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded at the foothills to the west, and as Bowles gazed he saw Dixie
+Lee coming down the broad slope like an arrow. She was riding
+Wa-ha-lote, too, and at sight of that noble charger the heart of Bat
+Wing Bowles became sad&mdash;or perhaps it was at sight of Dixie. However
+that may be, he continued on his way with melancholy resignation; while
+Brig viewed her coming with alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's where I ketch hell fer somethin'!" he muttered, as she sighted
+him from afar; and when she rode up and faced him he hung his head like
+a truant.</p>
+
+<p>"You Brig!" she said at last, whipping the hair from her eyes with one
+hand, "you haven't got git-up enough in you to win an Indian squaw!
+You'll make a lovely husband for somebody, and that's a fact&mdash;the way
+you do your courting. Who do you think is up to the big house waiting
+for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Huh?" demanded Brig, now suddenly all attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she's been there for more than a day&mdash;while you were out shooting
+prairie-dogs. What she sees in you is more than I can say, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who're ye talkin' about?" barked Brigham, throwing loose his
+leading-rope.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm talking about your girl," answered Dixie with Spartan directness.
+"Here, I'll lead your pack&mdash;go ahead and show her your dust."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do that," said Brig, leaning forward as she spoke; and, passing
+over the rope, he went spurring up the road.</p>
+
+<p>Dixie Lee gave Bowles a level look from beneath her tumbled hair, and
+touched Wa-ha-lote with the spur. Her manner seemed to be a disclaimer
+of any responsibility for their being left together, and yet somehow it
+was very obvious that the stage had been set for an interview. But if
+Dixie had any intentions, she concealed them effectually, and her manner
+was one of good-natured tolerance.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, look at that crazy fool ride," she observed, as Brig disappeared
+in his own dust. "You'd think from the way he travels he was the keenest
+lover in the world." She paused here and laughed to herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles, with a certain brotherly pride. "Old
+Brig thinks a lot of that girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, maybe he does," conceded Dixie; "but he certainly makes me
+provoked. I declare, the way some of these men&mdash;&mdash;" she paused again and
+bit her lip. Mr. Bowles was one of those men, too. "I reckon it's all
+right," she continued resignedly; "but when a woman has to ride clear
+over to the Gila, and propose for a man, and steal his girl for him, and
+then round him up and send him in, I guess she has some excuse to speak
+her mind. Don't you think so, Mr. Bowles? Well, then, if your friend
+Brigham had had his way, he would have hit for the summit of the White
+Mountains, and his girl would have been married to a Mormon! It makes me
+mad, Mr. Bowles, I declare it does! The idea of leaving that poor little
+girl over there and never going near her, when all the time she was
+begging him to come back, and her folks were reading her letters. She
+couldn't <i>write</i> it to him&mdash;she had to <i>tell</i> him&mdash;and he never showed
+up at all. Please don't apologize for him, Mr. Bowles; I'm sure there's
+not a word to be said."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bowles bowed his head and felt very humble indeed, as if he, too, in
+some inexplicable way, had erred and been rebuked.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said Dixie at last, "Father'll make Mr. Brig his wagon-boss,
+and they'll get married and live at the ranch. Simple, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it seems so," admitted Bowles; "but how do you know he will?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do I know?" repeated Dixie, rolling her eyes on him. "Why, Mr.
+Bowles, have you been around the Bat Wing for two months and failed to
+note who was boss? Right after you and Brigham Clark left I went down
+and <i>fired</i> that Hardy Atkins&mdash;so you don't need to be bashful about
+coming back."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice trailed off a little as she ended, and Bowles started and
+looked at the ground. New worlds and vistas appeared before him, and
+visions and sudden dreams&mdash;and then he was back by her side, and the
+road was passing by.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," he said at last. "It's my own fault&mdash;I should have
+explained at the beginning. But now your mother has written to her
+sister, and she has told my aunt, and so I've got to move on. She's
+telegraphing already." He showed her the yellow message and slipped it
+back into his pocket. "And there was a deputy sheriff inquiring for me,"
+he added bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" pouted Dixie, yanking at the reluctant pack-horse. "I just
+knew she'd do it. Mother means well, but she's a New Yorker, and&mdash;well,
+I hope she's satisfied!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I hope so too," added Bowles. "I never did have anything to be
+ashamed of, but&mdash;do you know who I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," answered Dixie May. "And I don't care, either," she
+added, glancing across at him with clear-seeing eyes. "I always knew you
+were a gentleman, and&mdash;say, what's the matter with that pack?"</p>
+
+<p>She dismounted quickly as she spoke, and Bowles dropped off to help.
+Then, after the ropes had been tightened, they stood silent within the
+circle of their horses.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bowles," began Dixie, leaning one arm on the pack and looking
+thoughtfully away, "being the man you are, you&mdash;you wouldn't compel a
+lady to apologize to you, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why no, no&mdash;certainly not!" gasped Bowles, alarmed by a mistiness in
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Because if that's what you're going away for&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" protested Bowles, now suddenly stirred to the
+depths. "Don't think of it&mdash;not for a moment! No, indeed! I will confess
+that I was a little hurt by your&mdash;but that's all right! That's all
+right! You don't know my aunt, do you, Miss Lee? I can't explain it to
+you, but&mdash;well, she's a very determined woman, in her way, and&mdash;well,
+she wants me to come home."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and so I'd better move on. I'm sorry that Brig can't go along with
+me, but&mdash;well, I can go alone. Do you remember one time, when we were
+coming West, I spoke about the spirit of the country&mdash;the spirit of the
+West? Well, I have found it&mdash;it is to move on!"</p>
+
+<p>"And never come back?" inquired Dixie quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, something like that," admitted Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do remember that," responded Dixie, with a reminiscent smile. "I
+remember it well. We were alone on the train and we said all kinds of
+things&mdash;I didn't know you very well then. I remember you told me once,
+if I'd help you find the Far West, you'd be my faithful knight&mdash;and all
+that. And I helped you, too, didn't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes!" said Bowles, puzzled by her air.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what about being my knight?" demanded Dixie, with sudden
+frankness. "You've done well out here, Mr. Bowles, but there's one thing
+I'm disappointed in&mdash;you don't keep the customs of the country!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what do you mean, Miss Lee?" inquired Bowles.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden smile illuminated Dixie's face&mdash;the same smile that had taken
+possession of him when he had forgotten and stolen a kiss&mdash;and then she
+turned away and blushed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "you're the first Bat Wing man that has gone away
+without&mdash;without proposing to me!"</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at him defiantly and folded her arms&mdash;and Bowles felt his
+reason eclipsed, and the world go dark before him. A thousand riotous
+thoughts clamored suddenly for recognition, and his brain reeled at the
+shock. Then he opened his eyes, and she was still smiling at him, but
+the smile had a twinkle of mischief in it. The memory of her legion of
+suitors came over him now, and her carefree, jesting ways, and he became
+of a sudden calm. They had all proposed, and she had led them on, and
+then she had told them no. But she should never deal that ignominy to
+him. If she scorned his humble suit and desired only to add his scalp to
+the rest, he would escape at least with his pride&mdash;he would never let
+her say he had proposed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you must excuse me, Miss Lee," he said, speaking with a formal
+restraint. "Much as I value your happiness, I&mdash;I cannot observe
+this&mdash;custom of the country!"</p>
+
+<p>He spat the words out bitterly, and closed his lips&mdash;as if there was
+more he might say. But Dixie did not lose her smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe I'd accept you," she suggested with a roguish twinkle, and once
+more he gazed into her eyes to read there if she was his friend. But a
+woman's eyes are deceptive, and hers spoke of many things&mdash;she smiled,
+the old dazzling smile, but there was mischief in the depths. He sighed
+and drew away.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, no," he said, "you cannot understand." Then, as she waited, his
+heart turned to bitterness and he spoke on as the thoughts came.
+"Really, Miss Lee, it pains me&mdash;I cannot believe it. What is one man,
+more or less, that you should hurt me like this? Dixie"&mdash;he raised his
+downcast eyes and regarded her reproachfully&mdash;"I have dreamed about you.
+I have worshiped you from afar&mdash;I have fought my way to be near you. You
+don't know how it would pain me&mdash;after all I have hoped&mdash;to have
+you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, Bowles," chided Dixie, reaching out her hand, "can't you see that I
+want you?"</p>
+
+<p>And then Bowles' dream came true.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bat Wing Bowles, by Dane Coolidge
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bat Wing Bowles, by Dane Coolidge
+
+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: Bat Wing Bowles
+
+Author: Dane Coolidge
+
+Illustrator: D Hutchison
+
+Release Date: May 18, 2011 [EBook #36134]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BAT WING BOWLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Louise Setzer, Mary Meehan and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            BAT WING BOWLES
+
+                            BY DANE COOLIDGE
+
+               AUTHOR OF "HIDDEN WATER" AND "THE TEXICAN"
+
+                     Illustrated by D. C. Hutchison
+
+
+    NEW YORK
+    FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
+    PUBLISHERS
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
+    FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
+    STREET & SMITH, NEW YORK
+
+    _All rights reserved, including that of translation
+    into foreign languages_
+
+    _March, 1914_
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'WHY, HELLO THERE, COWBOY!' SHE CHALLENGED BLUNTLY"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I MR. BOWLES
+
+II THE FAR WEST
+
+III THE BAT WING RANCH
+
+IV BRIGHAM
+
+V WA-HA-LOTE
+
+VI THE ROUND-UP
+
+VII THE QUEEN AT HOME
+
+VIII A COWBOY'S LIFE
+
+IX REDUCED TO THE RANKS
+
+X THE FIRST SMILE
+
+XI CONEY ISLAND
+
+XII PROMOTED
+
+XIII A LETTER FROM THE POSTMISTRESS
+
+XIV THE ENGLISH LORD
+
+XV BURYING THE HATCHET
+
+XVI THE STRAW-BOSS
+
+XVII AND HIS SQUIRREL STORY
+
+XVIII THE ROUGH-RIDERS
+
+XIX A COMMON BRAWL
+
+XX THE DEATH OF HAPPY JACK
+
+XXI A CALL
+
+XXII THE HORSE THAT KILLED DUNBAR
+
+XXIII THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+"'Why, hello there, cowboy!' she challenged bluntly"
+
+"Only Bowles, the man from the East, rose and took off his hat"
+
+"'You want to be careful how you treat these Arizona girls!'"
+
+"The man-killer charged at him through the dust"
+
+
+
+
+BAT WING BOWLES
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+MR. BOWLES
+
+
+It was a fine windy morning in March and Dixie Lee, of Chula Vista,
+Arizona, was leaving staid New York at the gate marked "Western
+Limited." A slight difference with the gatekeeper, who seemed to doubt
+every word she said, cast no cloud upon her spirits, and she was
+cheerfully searching for her ticket when a gentleman came up from
+behind. At sight of the trim figure at the wicket, he too became
+suddenly happy, and it looked as if the effete East was losing two of
+its merriest citizens.
+
+"Oh, good-morning, Miss Lee!" he said, bowing and smiling radiantly as
+she glanced in his direction. "Are you going out on this train?"
+
+"Why--yes," she replied, gazing into her handbag with a preoccupied
+frown. "That is, if I can find my ticket!"
+
+She found it on the instant, but the frown did not depart. She had
+forgotten the young man's name. It was queer how those New York names
+slipped her memory--but she remembered his face distinctly. She had met
+him at some highbrow affair--it was a reception or some such social
+maelstrom--and, yes, his name was Bowles!
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mr. Bowles," she exclaimed as he gallantly took her bag;
+but a furtive glance at his face left her suddenly transfixed with
+doubts. Not that his expression changed--far from that--but a fleeting
+twinkle in his eyes suggested some hidden joke.
+
+"Oh, isn't your name Bowles?" she stammered. "I met you at the
+Wordsworth Club, you know, and----"
+
+"Oh, yes--quite right!" he assured her politely. "You have a wonderful
+memory for names, Miss Lee. Shall we go on down to your car?"
+
+Dixie Lee regarded the young man questioningly and with a certain
+Western disfavor. He was one of those trim and proper creatures that
+seemed to haunt Wordsworth societies, welfare meetings, and other
+culture areas known only to the cognoscente and stern-eyed Eastern
+aunts. In fact, he seemed to personify all those qualities of breeding
+and education which a long winter of compulsory "finishing" had taught
+her to despise; and yet--well, if it were not for his clothes and
+manners and the way he dropped his "r's" he might almost pass for human.
+But she knew his name wasn't Bowles.
+
+There had been a person there by the name of Bowles, but the hostess had
+mumbled when she presented this one--and they had talked quite a little,
+too. She glanced at him again and a question trembled on her lips; but
+names were nothing out where she came from, and she let it go for
+Bowles.
+
+The hypothetical Mr. Bowles was a tall and slender young man, of a type
+that ordinarily maddened her beyond all reason and prompted her to say
+cruel things which she was never sorry for afterward. He had a clear
+complexion, a Cupid's bow mouth, and eyes as innocent as a girl's. They
+were of a deep violet hue, very soft and soulful, and had a truly
+cultured way of changing--when he talked--to mirror a thousand shades of
+interest, courtesy and concern; but the way they had flickered when he
+took over the name of Bowles suggested a real man behind the veil. His
+manners, of course, were irreproachable; and not even a haberdasher
+could take exception to his clothes. He was, in fact, attired strictly
+according to the mode, in a close-fitting suit of striped gray, with
+four-inch cuffs above his box-toed shoes, narrow shoulders, and a
+low-crowned derby hat, now all the rage but affected for many years only
+by Dutch comedians.
+
+When he removed this hat, which he did whenever he stood in her
+presence, he revealed a very fine head of hair which had been brushed
+straight back from his forehead until each strand knew its separate
+place; and yet, far from being pleased at this final evidence of
+conscientious endeavor, Dixie May received him almost with a sniff.
+
+"And are you really on your way to Arizona, Miss Lee?" he inquired,
+carefully leaving the "r" out of "are" and putting the English on
+"really." "Why, how fortunate! I am going West myself! Perhaps we can
+renew our acquaintance on the way. Those were jolly stories you were
+telling me at the Wordsworth Club--very improperly, to be sure, but all
+the more interesting on that account. About the round-up cook, you know,
+and the man who couldn't say 'No.' Nothing like that in California, I
+suppose. I'm off for Los Angeles, myself."
+
+"All right," answered Dixie Lee, waving California airily aside;
+"Arizona is good enough for me! Say, I'm going to ask this man where my
+section is."
+
+She fished out her Pullman ticket and showed it to a waiting porter, who
+motioned her down the train.
+
+"The fourth car, lady," he said. "Car Number Four!"
+
+"Car Four!" cried Bowles, setting down the suitcase with quite a
+dramatic start. "Why--why, isn't this remarkable, Miss Lee? To think
+that we should take the same train--on the same day--and then have the
+very same car! But, don't you know, you never finished that last story
+you were telling me--about the cowboy who went to the picnic--and now I
+shall demand the end of it. Really, Miss Lee, I enjoyed your tales
+immensely--but don't let me keep you waiting!"
+
+He hurried on, still commenting upon the remarkable coincidence; and as
+a memory of the reception came back to her and she recalled the avid way
+in which this same young man had hung upon her words, a sudden doubt, a
+shrewd questioning, came over the mind of Dixie Lee. Back in Arizona,
+now, a man with any git-up-and-git to him might--but, pshaw, this was
+not Arizona! And he was not that kind of man! No, indeed! The idea of
+one of these New York Willies doing the sleuth act and tagging her to
+the train!
+
+At the same time Dixie Lee had her misgivings about this correct young
+man, because she _knew_ his name was not Bowles. More than that, his
+language displeased her, reminding her as it did of her long winter's
+penance among the culturines. Three days more of highbrow conversation
+would just about finish her off--she must be stern, very stern, if she
+would avert the impending disaster! So she stabbed her neatly-trimmed
+little sombrero with a hatpin and waited for Mr. Bowles.
+
+"Lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?" he purled as he made bold
+to sit down beside her.
+
+"Yes, indeed," she answered, showing her white teeth in a simpering
+smile. "Simply heavenly. Don't you know, it reminds me of those lines in
+Wordsworth--you remember--I think it was in his 'Idiot Boy.' Oh, how do
+they go?"
+
+She knitted her brows and Mr. Bowles regarded her thoughtfully.
+
+"Perhaps it was in his 'Lines Written in Early Spring,'" he suggested
+guardedly.
+
+"No," she insisted. "It was in 'The Idiot Boy'--either that or in 'Lines
+Written to the Same Dog.' I forget which. Anyway, it told all about the
+rain, you know, and the clouds--and all that. Don't you remember? I
+thought you were full of Wordsworth."
+
+This last, was thrown out for a bait, to get Mr. Bowles to extend
+himself, but it failed of its effect. A somber smile took the place of
+the expected frenzy and he muttered half to himself as he gazed out of
+the window.
+
+"What's that you say?" she questioned sharply.
+
+"Oh, pardon me," he exclaimed, recovering himself with a sudden access
+of manner; "I was talking to myself, don't you know? But, really, I _am_
+pretty full of Wordsworth; so, if you don't mind, we'll talk about
+something else. My aunt, you know, is a great devotee of all the nature
+poets, and I attend the meetings to please her. It's an awful bore
+sometimes, too, I assure you; that's why your face was so welcome to me
+when I chanced to see you at the club-rooms. That lecturer was such a
+conceited ass and those women were so besotted in their admiration of
+him that I looked around to see if there was a single sane and
+reasonable creature in the room--and there you were, as stern and
+uncompromising as an angel and--oh, well, I formed a different
+conception of angels, right there. You were so delightfully humorous
+too, when Mrs. Melvine introduced us--and, well, really, Miss Lee, you
+are partly responsible for my leaving New York. I never fully realized
+before what our Western country must be like; I never dreamed that there
+was a place to flee to when the conventions of society grew irksome; but
+when you told me of your ranch, and the cowboys, and all the wonderful
+happenings of that wild and carefree life I--I made up my mind to chuck
+the whole thing, don't you know, and strike out for myself."
+
+"Oho!" breathed Dixie Lee, squinting down her eyes and regarding him
+with a shrewd smile. "So you're running away to be a cowboy, eh? Going
+West to fight the Indians! Well, well! But let me ask you one question,
+Mr. Bowles--if that's your name--I trust you don't plan to begin your
+depredations in my part of the country; because if you do----"
+
+"Oh, my dear Miss Lee," protested Mr. Bowles, "you have quite a mistaken
+idea, I assure you. Really, now, I hope you give me credit for more
+discretion than that. The fact is, I have an old college friend on a
+ranch in California and, though I have not taken my aunt entirely into
+confidence, I am really going out to make him a visit. It's all very
+well, you know, to read about sunsets in Wordsworth, but why not go out
+into the Far West and see the sun set indeed? That's what I say, but of
+course I would not offend her--she simply thinks my health is failing
+and I need a Western trip."
+
+"Oh!" said Dixie Lee quietly. "So _you've_ got an aunt, too, eh? What
+did you say her name was?"
+
+"Why, Mrs.--er--Bowles!"
+
+"But why Mrs. _Er_-Bowles?" queried Dixie May, relentlessly. "Why not
+Mrs. Bowles straight? Now, you know, Mr. Bowles, it looks very much to
+me as if----"
+
+"Her former name was Earl," interposed Mr. Bowles suavely, and carefully
+leaving out the "r." "My father's brother married a very dear friend of
+ours, a Mrs. Earl, and I sometimes call her so still--inadvertently, you
+know. I am an orphan now and Mrs. Earl--ah, Bowles--has taken me as a
+son. But you can readily understand how a young man of my age and
+disposition might not always fall in with a somewhat elderly lady's
+views of life, especially in regard to cultural influences, and while I
+love her very dearly and wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world----"
+
+"Yes, it's too bad about you!" observed Dixie Lee heartlessly; and then
+for quite a while she looked out of the car window as drab and dirty
+tenements slipped by and the train plunged into a tunnel.
+
+"How far West are you going?" she inquired, waking up suddenly from her
+reverie. "Lemme see your ticket. Um-m! Well, we travel together as far
+as Albuquerque, New Mex, and there we say 'Good-by.' I reckon California
+is about your size, Mr. Bowles, but don't you make any mistake and drop
+off in Arizona or the cowboys will scare you up some. As for the rest of
+it, I don't care what name a man goes by, but I see you are down on your
+ticket here as 'Houghton.'"
+
+There was a challenge in her voice; but Bowles was not dismayed.
+
+"Now, really, Miss Lee," he began, "why quibble over the accident of a
+name? Whether my name is Houghton, as I have signed it here, or Bowles,
+has nothing to do with the case. The fact is, I am suffering from an
+excess of aunts and Wordsworth, much in the same way that you are,
+perhaps, and my heart has gone out to the West. Be a good fellow now and
+help me out. Tell me about the country and what I would better do; and,
+though it is a small return, you shall have one more devoted slave to
+worship at your feet."
+
+A fleeting smile came into his eyes as he delivered himself of this
+last, and the queen of the Bat Wing Ranch paused suddenly to make sure
+there was no mistake. It would be hard indeed to find oneself laughed at
+by a suede New Yorker, and yet--well, he seemed to mean it, too.
+
+"Rise up, then, Sir Knight," she said, tapping him lightly with her
+sombrero; "and be mighty particular to change cars when we get to
+Albuquerque--otherwise the Chula Vista cowboys will make you hard to
+catch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE FAR WEST
+
+
+Three days is a short time in which to post a man on the Far West, but
+if you don't care what you say, and say it quick, you can give him a
+pretty good fill. Dixie Lee was almost sorry when the Limited rolled
+into Albuquerque, and Mr. Bowles was fairly tearful in his adieus.
+
+"Really, Miss Lee," he said, holding her hand with just a shade more
+than the proper pressure, "really, I shall never forget your kindness.
+The days have passed like a dream and I feel myself quite a Westerner
+already. Yes, I am sure I shall love the West--it is so big, and
+free--but what I like about it most is its splendid spirit of equality,
+its camaraderie. I can feel it everywhere--it is in the air--these
+great, rough-looking men, greeting perfect strangers in the smokers and
+on the platforms and saying: 'Say, pardner, gimme a match'--or a smoke,
+even! Oh, it is glorious! I--but, really, I must be going! So sorry our
+ways should part here. Well, good-by, Miss Lee--so glad we should happen
+to meet. I hope you have a pleasant journey. Thank you! Oh, don't
+mention it--good-by!"
+
+He raised his Dutch comedian hat once more, a trace of romantic
+mistiness came into his violet eyes, and then he hurried back to his
+luxurious quarters on the Limited while Dixie May sat and waited for the
+southbound to take her to Deming. It was not a cheerful journey to
+contemplate, for New Mexico and Arizona way trains are slow and dusty,
+and given to making poor connections and unseemly arrivals; but by ten
+o'clock that evening Dixie Lee hoped to get as far as Deming and then,
+if the Overland happened to be late too, she could catch a westbound
+passenger and get to Chula Vista before the hotel closed. The Western
+Limited pulled out as her train still stood on its track and she glanced
+at the rear-end of the observation car for a fluttering handkerchief;
+but Mr. Bowles' emotions seemed to have overcome him, for he was lacking
+in this last attention. She watched for him with a broad grin; then,
+when she was sure he was really gone, Dixie May threw herself back in
+her seat and laughed until she was silly.
+
+She was in good humor all the way to Deming, where the westbound was
+reported two hours late; but as she was pacing up and down the platform
+at midnight her face came suddenly straight. The westbound was standing
+on the track waiting for orders and she was walking along up toward the
+front when suddenly, through the smoking-car window, she beheld Sir
+Knight Bowles in eager converse with a grizzled old-timer! If it wasn't
+he, it was his twin brother--for there was the hard-boiled hat as large
+as life. The window was a little murky and the air was thick inside, but
+Dixie May was sure she had seen him--or was she having dreams?
+
+It seemed, somehow, as if she couldn't get that droll creature out of
+her mind. All the way down from Albuquerque she had been hearing his
+talk in her ears and laughing at the way he broadened his "a's" and
+purred and purled over his "r's." At times she had burst into
+inextinguishable laughter, insomuch that several of the male passengers
+had regarded her with curious glances and the train boy had tried to get
+gay with her; but Dixie Lee knew how to settle that kind of folks. A
+peanut butcher was a peanut butcher to her, and nothing more; and if he
+neglected to hawk his wares in order to drape himself over the back of
+her seat she could put him in his place. It was Mr. Bowles that she was
+thinking of--_Mr._ Bowles--and when she remembered the innocent look on
+his face as she filled him up with Indian atrocities and cattle-war
+stories she just simply had to laugh. But now to find him following
+her--to discover him on the same train when he was ticketed west out of
+Albuquerque--well, that was a different thing entirely!
+
+Dixie Lee retired to the sleeper to snatch a few hours of repose and
+when the dead-eyed porter set her down at Chula Vista she had entirely
+forgotten her knight. It was five o'clock on a cold March morning and
+the wind came in from across the prairie with a sweep that chilled the
+blood. It was so cold that the ticket-agent had ducked back into his
+inner sanctum before she could so much as hail him--and it was a quarter
+of a mile up to the hotel! Dixie May took a long look about her; she
+tried the waiting-room door; then, with a deep-drawn shudder, she turned
+to go it alone, when lo, a tall and masculine figure stepped out from
+behind the warehouse and she recognized Mr. Bowles!
+
+"Pardon me, madam," he said, doffing his comedian hat and addressing her
+as if she were a stranger; "I see you are all alone--can I be of any
+service to you?"
+
+It was dark, all right, but the idea of Mr. Bowles expecting to conceal
+his identity by mere starlight! She knew him, of course, the minute she
+saw his hat, but--well, what was the use of getting haughty about it?
+Why not do a little play-acting, too, until they got up to the hotel?
+
+"Why--why, yes," she faltered, simulating an appealing weakness. "It's
+very kind of you, I'm sure. I--I expected my father to meet me here,
+but----"
+
+"Ah, yes--very unfortunate," put in Bowles promptly. "Is there any hotel
+near? Just lead the way then, and I'll follow with your luggage. You
+might put on my overcoat if you're suffering from the cold. Rather not?
+Very well, then; let's hurry along to the hotel."
+
+They hurried, Bowles struggling with the baggage, of which he had three
+pieces, and Dixie Lee preparing her valedictory. Yes, much as she
+regretted it, she would have to bid him farewell--otherwise he might
+come tagging after her out to the ranch and set the whole country to
+talking. It was all very well back in New York, or on the train, but in
+the Tortugas--never! She would have to make her final effort cutting,
+but she hoped he would not take it too hard--and meanwhile, as a penance
+for his presumption, he could break his back packing her suitcases up
+from the station.
+
+"Ah, just a moment!" entreated Mr. Bowles, setting down the suitcases
+and working his tortured hands. "Oh, no, not heavy at all--perhaps I can
+fasten them together with this strap."
+
+He unbuckled the shoulder-strap from his alligator-skin bag and looped
+it through the handles of the suitcases.
+
+"Hah! Just the thing!" he exclaimed, slinging the two suitcases over his
+shoulder; and then, with a long, free stride, he swung along beside her,
+as tireless as an Indian--and as silent.
+
+A sudden sense of respect, almost of awe, came over Dixie Lee as she
+contemplated his masterful repose, but the hotel door was near and she
+nerved herself for the assault.
+
+"You think you're smart, don't you?" she snapped. "Following along after
+me this way! Just because I happened to be a little friendly----"
+
+"Now, really, Miss Lee," broke in Bowles with admirable calm, "I hope
+you will not be too hard on me. I assure you, if it had not been for
+your distressing situation--which no gentleman could overlook--you would
+never have been aware of my presence. But you have known me long enough,
+I am sure, to know that I would never presume to force my society upon
+any lady, more particularly upon one for whom----"
+
+"Well, what are you tagging along for then?" demanded Dixie Lee
+wrathfully. "When I said good-by to you up at Albuquerque you had a
+through ticket to California. Now here you are down at Chula Vista. What
+are you up to--that's what I want to know!"
+
+"To be sure!" agreed Mr. Bowles. "Under the circumstances, you have a
+perfect right to an explanation. I may as well confess then, Miss Lee,
+that your stories told on the train have fired me with a desire to see
+the real West, not the pseudo or imitation article, but the real thing
+with the hair on, as you so aptly phrased it. But here was my
+difficulty--I had no one to direct me. The hotel-keepers, the
+ticket-agents, even my Eastern friends in the West, might send me astray
+and I be none the wiser. I admit it was hardly a gentlemanly thing to
+do, but rather than lose my last chance to see the great West of which
+you spoke I followed after you; but without the slightest intention, I
+assure you, of making myself obnoxious. Is this the hotel ahead?"
+
+"Yes," said Dixie Lee, "it is. And while I wish to congratulate you upon
+your explanation I want to inform you, Mr. Bowles, that right here is
+where we part. You're looking for the Wild West, and here she is with
+her hair down. If you are hunting experiences these Chula Vista boys
+will certainly accommodate you; but from this time on, Mr. Bowles, we
+are strangers. We don't know each other, do you understand? If what you
+say is true, you followed me simply to find the Far West. This is it.
+We're quits, then; and I shall have to ask you, as a gentleman, not to
+annoy me further. You may be all right--back in New York--but out here
+it's different and I don't want to have the folks joshing me about you.
+So I'll bid you farewell, Mr. Bowles, and thank you kindly for carrying
+up my baggage--but don't you dare come around the Bat Wing Ranch, or
+I'll tell the boys to kill you!"
+
+She grabbed up her baggage as she spoke and hurried ahead, and when Mr.
+Bowles stepped into the hotel some minutes later she was as distant as
+an ivory goddess. Or a bronze goddess, to be exact, for the sun and wind
+had caressed the fair cheeks of Dixie May until they were as brown and
+ruddy as a berry, and even the steam heat of a New York apartment could
+only reduce their coloring. She seemed a goddess indeed to Bowles as she
+lingered beside the stove, her smooth, capable hands bared to the glow
+of the flames, and her body buoyant with the grace of youth; but the
+laughing brown eyes which had become the mirrors of his life were turned
+away now and all the world was changed.
+
+The bottle-nosed proprietor came shuffling in from the bar and silently
+handed him a pen; then, without looking at the name that was signed, he
+wrote a number after it and handed his guest a key.
+
+"Baggage?" he inquired as Mr. Bowles stood helplessly to one side.
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Bowles, recovering himself with an effort. "Here are the
+checks. My trunks will be in on a later train. Have them sent up, won't
+you?"
+
+"Sample room?" queried the hotel-keeper brusquely.
+
+"Beg pardon?"
+
+"D'ye want 'em put in the sample room?" snarled the proprietor, outraged
+at having to bandy words with the despised Easterner.
+
+"The sample room?" repeated Mr. Bowles, now thoroughly mystified. "Why,
+no--why should I?"
+
+At this final evidence of imbecility a mighty spasm of rage came over
+the proprietor, and as he struggled to regain his calm Dixie Lee
+suddenly clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and made a dash for the
+dining-room. The paroxysm passed and with an air of wearied indulgence
+the proprietor explained and disappeared.
+
+"All right!" he grumbled. "Guess you know your own business. Thought you
+was a travelin' man."
+
+He stepped back through the door marked "Bar" and Mr. Bowles was left to
+gasp alone. A traveling man! They took him for a traveling man! It was
+quite a shock, and Bowles was still brooding over it by the stove when
+the door from the bar was thrust open and a tall cowboy, booted and
+spurred and shapped and pistoled, came stalking into the room. His broad
+sombrero was shoved far back on his head, showing a tremendous stand of
+tumbled hair, and his keen hazel eyes roved about with the steady
+intentness of a hunting animal's; but only for the fraction of a second
+did he condescend to notice Bowles. He swayed a little as he walked and
+the aroma of whisky came with him, but otherwise he seemed perfectly
+sober.
+
+"Say!" he called, turning and kicking the bar door open again, "did Dix
+come in on that train? She did? Well, here's where I git hell--I was
+supposed to go down and meet 'er!"
+
+He came over and stood by the stove, apparently oblivious of the man
+before him, and while he waited he cursed himself in a cynical,
+impersonal sort of way that made a great impression on Bowles.
+
+"Well, where is she?" he demanded, as the proprietor hurried in behind
+him. "I ain't had a wink of sleep, but we'll have to hit the road
+anyway."
+
+"Dixie's in getting a cup of coffee," answered the proprietor. "Better
+have a seltzer first," he wheedled, taking him by the arm and drawing
+him toward the barroom.
+
+"You're dead right there too, old sport!" responded the cowboy heartily.
+"My head is as big as a balloon, and them grays will shore drag me over
+the dashboard if I don't kill some of this whisky."
+
+He tottered out as he spoke and Mr. Bowles half rose from his chair.
+Dixie Lee was in danger; she was in imminent peril of death! He must
+warn her--he must help her--he must try to save her life! He was in a
+fever of excitement when the dining-room door finally swept open and
+Dixie May entered the room; but she was calm, very calm, and something
+about her bade him hold his hand. Then the barroom door swung in again
+and the cowboy appeared, walking head up with a masterful stride--and a
+look in his eyes that Bowles knew all too well.
+
+"Why, hello, Dix!" he cried, hurrying over and striking hands with her.
+"Well, well, how're you comin'? What, don't I draw nothin'?"
+
+"No, you don't!" responded Dixie Lee, stepping back as he impudently
+offered to kiss her. "Not unless it's a good slap for not meeting me
+down at the train! How's Maw and Paw and all the boys? Have you gentled
+that colt for me yet?"
+
+And so, with many laughing sallies, they passed out into the cold dawn,
+leaving Bowles to sit by the fire and stare. But in her last glance he
+had read a challenge, and he did not let it pass.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE BAT WING RANCH
+
+
+A week passed by while Mr. Bowles prepared for his great emprise, and
+then one evening as the sun set behind the purple peaks of the Tortugas
+and lighted up the white walls of the big house on the hill a stranger
+might have been seen riding up toward the Bat Wing gate. In fact, he was
+seen, and the round-up cook, who was washing supper dishes at the rear
+of the chuck-wagon, delivered himself of a heartfelt curse.
+
+"What's the matter, Gus?" inquired a lounging cowboy who was hovering
+over the fire. "Drop yore dishrag?"
+
+"No; and I don't need to around this ranch!" commented Gus with bitter
+emphasis. "It's a common remark or sayin' that when you drop yore
+dishrag it means a visitor is comin'--or, as some say, it means bad
+luck. Now jest look at that ornery feller comin' up the road! Can't let
+his hawse out none--can't whip up a little and git in by
+supper-time--has to come draggin' in jest as I'm finishin' my work!"
+
+The cowboy raised himself up slowly from crouching on his heels and
+regarded the stranger intently.
+
+"Say, who is that?" he said at last. "Looks like he was ridin' that
+little bald-faced sorrel that Lon Morrell traded to Jim Scrimsher last
+summer. Yes, sir, it's the very same hawse--that's somebody from down
+Chula Vista way!"
+
+"Well, I don't care where he comes from," grumbled the cook, "as long as
+he comes a-runnin'! I sure will be one happy man when the wagon gits
+away from this ranch and I git shut of these no-'count, worthless
+chuck-riders. Well, biscuits and coffee is all he gits now, I don't care
+if he's a cattle-buyer!"
+
+He wiped his hands carefully on a clean towel he kept hid for that
+purpose, pulled out his long gray mustaches and regarded the stranger
+with a baleful stare.
+
+"Hoo!" he sneered. "Look at them shaps, will you? Ain't them the fancy
+pants though! Right new, too--and git on to that great big six-shooter!
+Must be a forest ranger!"
+
+"Shut up!" said the cowboy as the stranger dropped off at the gate. "He
+might hear ye!"
+
+"Don't give a rip if he did!" snorted Gus, to whom Uncle Sam's gay young
+forest-savers were intimately associated with an extra plate; and,
+grumbling and slamming down dishes, he returned to his manifold duties.
+
+But the stranger was evidently not a common chuck-rider; in fact, so
+gloriously was he appareled that the moment his rigging became apparent
+the idling cowboy made a swift sneak to the bunk-house, where the boys
+were wrangling over a pitch game, and turned in a general alarm.
+
+"Come out, fellers," he whispered hoarsely, "and see the new tenderfoot!
+Hurry up, he's goin' over to the big house! Say, he's a forest ranger
+all right!"
+
+"Nothin' of the kind!" asserted a burly cow-puncher, thrusting his head
+out the door. "Movin' picture cowboy, I'll bet a hat!"
+
+The stranger remounted gracefully as they gazed out at him; then he
+touched his jaded sorrel with the spur and trotted over to the big house
+gate--and as he trotted he rose rhythmically in his stirrups, while all
+cowboy-land stood aghast!
+
+"English!" they gasped in a chorus, and burst into fervid curses as they
+stared at the uncouth sight. A grown man, a white man, and hopping up
+and down like that! Holy, jumping Jerusalem! They beat each other on the
+back in an agony of despair--and yet it was no more than Mr. Bowles,
+dropping back into his old Central Park habits. To be sure, the man who
+coached him at Chula Vista had warned him against it repeatedly, but the
+customs of a lifetime are not wiped out in a minute, and to that extent
+Mr. Bowles was still an Easterner.
+
+The big white house in which Henry Lee made his home was a landmark in
+southeast Arizona. Some people merely referred to it as "The White
+House," and though it was forty miles from the railroad it was as well
+known in its way as the abiding place of Presidents in Washington. The
+White House was a big, square, adobe building, set boldly on the top of
+a low hill and surrounded by a broad wooden gallery, from behind whose
+clambering honeysuckles and gnarled rose-bushes Mrs. Lee and Dixie May
+looked down upon the envious world below. To be invited up to the big
+house, to sit on the flower-scented porch and listen to the soft voices
+of the women--that was a dream to which every cow-puncher's heart
+aspired, although in the realization many a bold, adventurous man lost
+face and weakened. But to Bowles the big house was the natural place to
+go, and he unlatched the gate and mounted to the gallery without a
+tremor.
+
+Upon the edge of the porch, smoking his pipe and gazing out over his
+domain, sat Henry Lee, the pioneer cattleman of the Tortugas Valley, and
+a man who had fought Indians to get his start. He was a great man--old
+Henry Lee--but to Bowles chiefly distinguished by being the father of
+Dixie May.
+
+"Ah, good-evening!" he began, bringing his heels together and bowing.
+"Are you Mr. Lee?"
+
+The cattleman looked at him a moment with a calm, appraising eye. He was
+a small, rather slight man, but square-shouldered and far from
+decrepit--also, he had seen the procession go by for quite a while, and
+he could judge most men by their faces.
+
+"That's my name," he said, rising quietly from his place. "What can I do
+for you?"
+
+"My name is Bowles," said that gentleman, following the procedure he
+thought most fitting in one seeking employment. "Mr. Scrimsher, of Chula
+Vista, has referred me to you in regard to a position as cowboy. I
+should like very much to get such a place."
+
+"Sorry, Mr. Bowles," answered Mr. Lee, knocking the ashes out of his
+pipe, "but I'm not taking on any hands at present."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" murmured the would-be cowboy, not at all dismayed.
+"Perhaps there will be an opening for me later?"
+
+"No; I'm afraid not. I generally take on about the same boys every year,
+or men that know the country, and there won't be any place for you."
+
+There was something very final about the way that this was said, and
+Bowles paused to meditate.
+
+"Turn your horse into the pasture and git some supper at the wagon,"
+added the old man, with a friendly gesture; but supper was not what
+Bowles had come for. He had come to get a job where he could be near the
+queen of his heart, and perhaps win her by some deed of prowess and
+daring. So he ignored this tacit dismissal and returned again to the
+charge.
+
+"I can readily understand, Mr. Lee," he began, "why you hesitate to
+employ a stranger, and especially a man who has newly come from the
+East, but if you would give me a trial for a few days I am sure you
+would find me a very willing worker. I have come out here in order to
+learn the cattle business, and the compensation is of no importance to
+me at first; in fact, I should be glad to work without pay until you
+found my services of value. Perhaps now----"
+
+"Nope," interposed the cattleman, shaking his head regretfully. "I've
+tried that before, and it don't work. Cow-punching is a business by
+itself, and it can't be learned in a minute; in fact, a good puncher is
+the scarcest thing on the range, and I either pay the top price or I
+don't take a man on at all. I can't stop to monkey with green hands."
+
+Now, this was pretty direct, and it was calculated to put the ordinary
+tenderfoot in his place; but Mr. Bowles came from a self-selected class
+of people who are accustomed to having their own way, and he would not
+acknowledge himself beaten.
+
+"Now, really, Mr. Lee," he protested, "I don't think you are quite fair
+to me in this. As I understand it, your round-up is just beginning, and
+I am sure I could be of some service--for a few days, at least."
+
+The old man glanced at his fancy new outfit, and thought he saw another
+way out.
+
+"Can you ride?" he inquired, asking that first fatal question before
+which so many punchers go down.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Bowles politely.
+
+"You mean you can ride a gentle horse," corrected Lee. "I've got some
+pretty wild ones in my bunch, and of course a new hand couldn't expect
+to get the best. Can you rope?"
+
+"No, I mean any horse," retorted Bowles, avoiding the subject of roping.
+"Any horse you have."
+
+"Hmm!" observed Mr. Lee, laying down his pipe and regarding his man with
+interest. "Did you ever ride any bad horses?"
+
+"Yes, sir," lied Bowles; "several of them."
+
+"And you think you can ride any horse I've got, eh?" mused Lee. "Well,
+I'll tell you, Mr. Bowles," he continued, speaking very deliberately;
+"I've got a horse in my remuda that killed a man last fall--if you'll
+ride him I'll take you on for a puncher."
+
+"Very well, sir," responded Bowles. "And thank you very much. It's very
+kind of you, I'm sure."
+
+He turned to go but the cattleman stopped him in his second stride. His
+bluff had been called, for it would never do to go to a show-down--not
+unless he wanted a man's blood on his hands.
+
+"Here! Wait a minute!" he cried impatiently. "I don't want to get you
+killed, so what's the use of talking? The only way for you to get to be
+a cow-puncher is to work up to it, the way everybody does. I'll give you
+a job as flunky at twenty a month and found, and if you make good I'll
+put you on for horse wrangler. How does that strike you?"
+
+"Ah--what are the duties of a flunky?" inquired Bowles, cautiously and
+without enthusiasm. "You know, I'm quite content with your first
+proposal."
+
+"Very likely," answered Mr. Lee dryly. "But wait till you see the horse.
+All a flunky has to do is to help the cook, wash the dishes, drag up a
+little wood, and drive the bed-wagon."
+
+"It's very kind of you, I'm sure," murmured Mr. Bowles; "but I think I
+prefer the other."
+
+"The other what?"
+
+"Why, the other position--the job of cow-puncher."
+
+"You don't think I'll let you ride that horse, do you?" demanded Mr. Lee
+sternly.
+
+"Why--so I understood you."
+
+The old cattleman snorted and muttered to himself. He had talked too
+much and that was all there was to it. Now he would have to make some
+concessions to pay for it.
+
+"Listen to me, young man," he said, rising and tapping him on the
+shoulder. "The horse that killed Dunbar is the worst man-eater in the
+country--I ought to have shot the brute long ago--and if you try to ride
+him he'll throw you before you git your stirrup. More'n that, he'll kick
+you before you hit the ground, and jump on you before you bounce. My
+twister, Hardy Atkins, won't go near 'im, and he's one of the best
+riders in Arizona; so what's the use of talking about it? Now, you're a
+stranger here, and I'll make an exception of you--how about that flunky
+job?"
+
+"Why--really----" Mr. Bowles hesitated a moment. "Perhaps it's only in
+the name, but I'd rather not accept such a menial position. Of course,
+it's very kind of you to offer me the alternative, but----"
+
+"Now, here!" cried the cattleman fiercely. "I'll make you assistant
+horse wrangler, at thirty dollars a month, and if you don't accept I'll
+tell Hardy to catch up the old man-killer and put you in the hospital! I
+was a fool to talk to you the way I did; but don't you crowd me too far,
+young man, or you'll find Henry Lee a man of his word! Now, will you
+wrangle horses, or will we have to ship you East?"
+
+Bowles stared at him for a moment, and then he drew himself up proudly.
+
+"If the choice lies between a menial position----" he began; and old
+Henry brought his teeth together with a click.
+
+"You poor, dam', ignorant tenderfoot!" he raved. "You don't know when
+you're being treated white! You ain't worth a cent to me, sir--no, not a
+cent! And now I'm going to learn you something! I'll ask my twister to
+put the saddle on old Dunbar in the morning, and you'll have to ride
+him, sir, or own yourself a coward!"
+
+"Very well, sir," answered Bowles, with military stiffness. "Very well!
+I will see you in the morning, then."
+
+He bowed and strode off down the path, his new shaps flapping
+ponderously as he walked; and the old cattleman brushed his eyes to
+drive the mad thought away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BRIGHAM
+
+
+If his strategic victory over Henry Lee had given Bowles, the pseudo
+cowboy, any swelled-up ideas about taking the Bat Wing outfit by storm,
+he was promptly undeceived when he went up against Gloomy Gus, the cook.
+Gus had set the sour dough for men old enough to be Mr. Bowles'
+grandfather; men who were, so he averred, the superiors of any punchers
+now living and conspicuously prompt at their meals. In striking contrast
+to these great souls, Bowles had lingered entirely too long up at the
+big house; and when, after tying up his horse and feeding him some of
+Mr. Lee's long-treasured hay, he came dragging up to the chuck-wagon,
+the hour of grace had passed. Gloomy Gus was reclining beside his fire
+in converse with a red-headed cowboy, and neither of them looked up.
+
+"Ah, pardon me," began Mr. Bowles, with perhaps a trace of condescension
+in his voice; "can you tell me where I will find the cook?"
+
+The red-headed cowboy sat like a graven image, with his eyes fixed on
+the fire, and finally the cook replied.
+
+"You'll find him right here, Mister," he said, "from four o'clock in the
+mornin' till sundown--and then, by grab, he quits!"
+
+The injured emphasis with which this last was enunciated left no doubt
+as to the identity of the speaker, and Bowles murmured polite regrets;
+but, coming as he did from a land where cooks are not kings, he
+continued with the matter in hand.
+
+"So sorry," he purled, "if I am a little late; but Mr. Lee told me to
+come down here and ask you to give me some dinner."
+
+"Huh!" grunted the cook. "Did you hear that, Brigham?"
+
+The cowboy nodded gravely and squinched his humorous eyes at the fire.
+He was a burly young man, dressed for business in overalls and jumper,
+but sporting a big black hat and a fine pair of alligator-topped boots;
+and from the way his fat cheeks wrinkled up it was evident he was
+expecting some fun.
+
+The cook regarded Bowles for a minute with evident disapproval; then he
+raised himself on one elbow and delivered his ultimatum.
+
+"Well, Mr. Man," he rasped, making his manner as offensive as possible,
+"you go back and tell Mr. Lee that I won't give you no dinner. Savvy? Ef
+you'd come round when you first rode in I might've throwed you out
+somethin', but now you can rustle yore own grub."
+
+At these revolutionary remarks, Mr. Bowles started, and for a moment he
+almost forgot his breeding; then he withdrew into himself, and let the
+gaucherie pass with the contempt which it deserved. But it is hard to be
+dignified when you are hungry, and after several minutes of silence he
+addressed himself to the cowboy.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, "but is there any other place nearby where I could
+buy a little food?"
+
+"W'y, no, stranger," returned the cowboy amiably; "I don't reckon there
+is. Why don't you pick up a little around here? They's some coffee in
+that pot."
+
+He nodded toward a large black coffee-pot that stood simmering by the
+fire, and Bowles cast a questioning glance at the cook.
+
+"Hop to it!" exclaimed that dignitary, not a little awed by the
+stranger's proud reserve. "They's some bread in that can up there."
+
+But still Bowles was helpless.
+
+"Er--where do you eat?" he inquired, looking about for some sign of a
+table, or even of a plate and cup.
+
+"Anywhere!" answered the cook, with a large motion of the hand. Then, as
+his guest still stood staring, he wearily rose to his feet. Without a
+word, he reached down into a greasy box and grabbed out a tin plate and
+cup; from another compartment he fished forth a knife, fork and spoon;
+with a pot-hook he lifted the cover of an immense Dutch oven, thumped an
+oil-can half-full of cooked beans, and slopped a little coffee out of
+the pot. Then he let down the hinged door to his chuck-box, spread a
+clean white flour sack on it, laid out the dishes with elaborate
+solicitude, and slumped down again by the fire. Nothing said--and the
+cowboy sat nerveless in his place--but Mr. Bowles felt rebuked. He was a
+tenderfoot--an Easterner masquerading as a cowboy--and every movement of
+the sardonic pot-tender was calculated to rub it in and leave him, as it
+did, in a welter of rage and shame.
+
+From the oil-can be dipped out some beans; he poured coffee and ate in
+silence, not daring to ask for butter or sugar lest he should still
+further reveal his ignorance; and when he had finished his meal he
+slipped away and went out to look at his horse. A piano was tinkling up
+at the big house, and the stars were very bright, but neither stars nor
+music could soothe his wounds, and at last he went back to the fire. The
+cook was gone now, and the cowboy also; the big noise was in the long,
+low building from which so many heads had appeared when he rode in from
+Chula Vista. He paused at the doorway, and listened; then, bracing
+himself for the hazing which was his due, he knocked.
+
+"Come in!" yelled a raucous voice in an aside to the general uproar.
+"Come in here----No, by thunder, you played a seven! Well, where is it,
+then? Show me, pardner; I'm from Missou'. If you played the jack, where
+is it?"
+
+Bowles pushed open the door, that scraped and sagged as he shoved it,
+and stepped into a room that was exactly posed for one of those
+old-fashioned pictures labeled "Evil Associates; or The First Step
+Toward Destruction." At a long table, upon which burned a smoky lamp, a
+group of roughly dressed men were wrangling over a game of cards, while
+other evil-doers looked over their shoulders and added to the general
+blasphemy. A growth of beard, ranging anywhere from three days' to a
+week's, served to give them all a ferocious, cave-dweller appearance;
+and so intent were they on their quarrel that not a man looked up. If
+Bowles had expected to be the center of the stage, it was from an
+exaggerated sense of his own importance, for so lightly was he held that
+no one so much as glanced at him--with the single exception of the
+red-headed cowboy, who was playing a mouth-organ in the corner--until
+the missing jack was produced.
+
+A wooden bunk, built against the wall, was weighed down with a sprawling
+mass of long-limbed men; on the floor the canvas-covered beds of the
+cowboys were either thrown flat or still doubled up in rolls; and the
+only other furniture in sight was the two benches by the table and a hot
+stove that did yeoman service as a cuspidor. The air was thick with the
+smoke of cigarettes, and those who did not happen to be smoking were
+chewing plug tobacco, but the thing which struck Bowles as most
+remarkable was the accuracy with which they expectorated. A half oil-can
+filled with ashes served as a mark on the farther side; and the big,
+bull-voiced puncher who had so casually bid him come in was spitting
+through a distant knot-hole, which was rapidly becoming the center of a
+"Texas Flag."
+
+Really, it was astounding to Bowles, even after all he had read and seen
+enacted on the films, to observe the rude abandon of these Western
+characters, and particularly in their speech. Somehow the Western tales
+he had read had entirely failed to catch the startling imagery of their
+vernacular--or perhaps the editors had cut it out. The well-known
+tendency toward personal violence, however, was ever present, and as
+Bowles made bold to overlook the game a controversy sprang up which
+threatened to result in bloodshed.
+
+The bull-voiced man--a burly, hook-nosed Texan, who answered to the name
+of Buck--was playing partners with a tall, slim, quiet-spoken puncher
+who centered all his thoughts on the cards; and against them were ranged
+a good-natured youth called Happy Jack and the presumptuous cowboy who
+had offered to kiss Dixie Lee. The game was fast, proceeding by signs
+and grunts and mysterious knocks on the table, and as it neared its
+close and each man threw down his cards with a greater vehemence, Happy
+Jack flipped out three final cards and made a grab for the matches. But
+this did not suit the ideas of the bull moose and his partner, and they
+rose from their seats with a roar.
+
+"What you claim?" demanded Buck, laying a firm hand on the stakes.
+
+"High, low, and the game!" answered Happy Jack wrathfully.
+
+"You ain't got no game," put in the quiet puncher. "Why don't you play
+yore hand out instead of makin' a grab?"
+
+"Here now!" spoke up Dixie Lee's miscreant friend, leaning half-way
+across the table. "You-all quit jumpin' on Happy or I'll bust you on the
+_cabezon_!"
+
+"Yes, you will!" sneered Buck, shoving his big head closer, as if to
+dare the blow. "You don't look bad to me, Hardy Atkins, and never did;
+and don't you never think for a moment that you can run it over me and
+Bill, because you cain't! Now you better pull in that ornery face of
+yourn while it's all together--and we're goin' to count them cards, by
+this-and-that, if it's the last act!"
+
+So they raged and wrangled, apparently on the very verge of a personal
+conflict; but as the play wore on Bowles became increasingly aware of a
+contemptuous twinkle that dwelt in the eyes of the man called Hardy
+Atkins. Then it came over him suddenly that other eyes were upon him;
+and instantly the typical Western scene was wrecked, and he saw himself
+made the fool. No burst of ruffianly laughter gave point to the
+well-planned jest--it passed over as subtly as a crisis in high
+society--but as he turned away from the game Bowles found himself in
+possession of a man-sized passion. Back where he came from an open,
+personal hatred was considered a little _outre_; but the spirit of the
+wilds had touched him already, and Hardy Atkins, the green-eyed,
+familiar friend of Dixie Lee, was the man that he hoped would choke.
+
+As interest in the pitch game languished and a scuffle made the bunk
+untenable, stray cowboys began to drift outside again, some to seek out
+their beds beneath the wagon-sheds and others to foregather about the
+fire. First among these was the red-headed man called Brigham; and when
+Bowles, after sitting solitary for a while, followed after them, he
+found Brigham the center of attraction. Perched upon an upturned box,
+and with one freckled hand held out to keep the firelight from his eyes,
+he was holding forth with a long story which had everybody listening.
+
+"And I says to this circus feller," he was saying, "'Well, I ain't never
+done no bareback work, but if you cain't git no one else to jump through
+them hoops I'll guarantee to take the pretty outer _one_ of 'em. But you
+be mighty p'ticular to pop that whip of yourn, pardner,' I says to the
+ring-master, 'or that ol' rockin'-hawse will git away from me.'"
+
+He cocked one eye up to see if Bowles was listening, and then indulged
+in a reminiscent chuckle.
+
+"Well, I climbed up on that ol' rockin'-hawse--I was dressed like a
+clown, of course--and after the regular people had gone round the ring I
+come rackin' along out of the side-tent, a-bowin' to all the ladies and
+whistlin' to all the dogs, until you'd think I was goin' to do wonders.
+But all the kids was on, and they begin to laugh and throw peanuts,
+because they knowed the clown was bound to git busted--that's what the
+rascal is paid fer. Well, we went canterin' around the ring, me and that
+old white hawse that had been doin' it for fifteen years, and every time
+we come to a hoop I'd make my jump--the ring-master would pop his
+whip--and when I come squanderin' out the other side the old hawse would
+be right there to ketch me. Trick he had--he'd slow down and kinder wait
+fer me--but that dogged ring-master put up a job on me--he shore did;
+but the scoundrel tried to lie out of it afterwards.
+
+"You see, them people that come out to Coney they expect somethin' fer
+their money, and bein' as I was only the fill-in man and the other
+feller was comin' back anyway, the management decided to ditch me. So
+when I made a jump at my last hoop the ring-master forgot to pop his
+whip--or so he said--and I come down on my head and like to killed me.
+Well, sir, the way them people hollered you'd think the king had come,
+an' when a couple of fool clowns come runnin' out and carried me off on
+a shutter they laughed till they was pretty nigh sick. That's the way it
+is at Coney Island--unless somebody is gittin' killed, them tight-wads
+won't spend a cent."
+
+The red-headed raconteur laughed a little to himself, and, seeing his
+audience still attentive, he launched out into another.
+
+"Yes, sir!" he began. "That's a great place--old Coney. You boys that's
+never been off the range don't know what it is you've missed. There's
+side shows, and circuses, and shoot-the-chutes, and whirley-go-rounds,
+and Egyptian seeresses, and hot-dog joints, and--well, say, speakin' of
+hot-dog reminds me of the time I took the job of spieler fer Go-Go, the
+dog-faced boy. This here Go-Go was a yaller nigger that they had rigged
+up like a cannibal and put in a big box along with a lot of dehorned
+rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and sech. It was my job to stand up over
+the box, while the ballyhoo man outside was pullin' 'em in, and pop a
+whip over this snake-eatin' cannibal, and let on like he was tryin' to
+escape. I had a little old pistol that I'd shoot off, and then Go-Go
+would rattle his chain and yell '_Owww-wah!_' like he was sure eatin'
+'em alive.
+
+"That was the barker's cue, and he'd holler out: 'Listen to the wild
+thing! He howls, and howls, and howls! Go-Go, the wild boy, the
+snake-eatin' Igorotte from the Philippines! Step right in, ladies and
+gentlemen! The price is ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a
+dollar----' and all that kind of stuff, until the place was filled up.
+Then it was my turn to spiel, and I'd git up on the box, with a
+blacksnake in one hand and that little old pistol in the other, and say:
+
+"'La-adies and gentle-men, before our performance begins I wish to say a
+few words relatin' to Echigogo Cabagan, the wild boy of Luzon. This
+strange creature was captured by Lieutenant Crawford, of the
+Seventy-ninth Heavy Artillery, in the wilds of the Igorotte country in
+the Philippines. At the time of his recovery he was livin' in the
+tropical jungles, never havin' seen a human face, an' subsistin'
+entirely upon poisonous reptyles, which was his only pets and
+companions. So frequently was he bit by these venomous reptyles that
+Professor Swope, of the Philadelphia Academy, after a careful analysis
+of his blood, figgers out that it contains seven fluid ounces of the
+deadly poison, or enough to kill a thousand men.
+
+"'On account of the requests of the humane society, the mayor, and
+several prominent ladies now present in the audience, we will do our
+best to prevent Go-Go from eatin' his snakes alive but----' and right
+there was the nigger's cue to come in.
+
+"'_Oww-wah!_' he'd yell, shakin' his chain and tearin' around in his
+box, '_Ow-woo-wah_!' And then he'd grab up them pore, sufferin'
+rattlesnakes and sech, and quile 'em around his neck, and snap his teeth
+like he was bitin' heads off--and me, I'd pop my whip and shoot off my
+pistol, and scare them fool people most to death.
+
+"Well, that was the kind of an outfit it was, and one day when the
+nigger was quieted down between acts and playin' with a rag-doll we had
+give him in order to make him look simple-minded-like, a big, buck Injun
+from the Wild West Show come in with the bunch and looked at Go-Go
+kinder scary-like. You know----"
+
+A noise of scuffling feet made the story-teller pause, and then the gang
+of card players came tumbling out of the bunk-house.
+
+"Let's roast some ribs," said one.
+
+"No, I want some bread and lick," answered another.
+
+"What's the matter with aigs?" broke in a third.
+
+"Say, you fellers shut up, will you?" shouted a man by the fire. "Old
+Brig's tellin' us a story!"
+
+"Oh, git 'im a chin-strap," retorted the bull-voiced Buck. "I want some
+ribs!"
+
+"Well, keep still, can't ye?" appealed the anxious listener; but silence
+was not on the cards. The chuck-box was broken open and ransacked for a
+butcher-knife; then as Buck went off to trim away the ribs of the cook's
+beef, Hardy Atkins and his friends made merry with the quiet company.
+
+"Ridin' 'em again, are you, Brigham?" inquired Happy Jack with a grin.
+
+"No, he's divin' off'n that hundred-foot pole!" observed Poker-faced
+Bill sardonically.
+
+"And never been outside the Territory!" commented Hardy Atkins _sotto
+voce_.
+
+Something about this last remark seemed to touch the loquacious Brigham,
+for he answered it with spirit:
+
+"Well, that's more than some folks can say," he retorted. "I sure never
+run no hawse race with the sheriff out of Texas!"
+
+"No, you pore, ignorant Jack Mormon," jeered Atkins; "and you never rode
+no circus hawse at Coney Island, neither. I've seen fellers that knowed
+yore kinfolks down on the river, and they swore to Gawd you never been
+outside of Arizona. More'n that, they said you was a worser liar than
+old Tom Pepper--and he got kicked out of hell fer lyin'."
+
+A guffaw greeted this allusion to the fate of poor old Tom; but Brigham
+was not to be downed by comparisons.
+
+"Yes," he drawled; "I heerd about Tom Pepper. I heerd say he was a
+Texican, and the only right smart one they was; and the people down
+there was so dog ignorant, everything he told 'em they thought it was a
+lie. Built up quite a reputation that way--like me, here. Seems like
+every time I tell these Arizona Texicans anything, they up and say I'm
+lyin'."
+
+He ran his eye over his audience and, finding no one to combat him
+further, he lapsed into a mellow philosophy.
+
+"Yes," he said, cocking his eye again at Bowles; "I'm an ignorant kind
+of a feller, and I don't deny it; but I ain't one of these men that
+won't believe a thing jest because I never seen it. Now, here's a
+gentleman here--I don't even know his name--but the chances are, if he's
+ever been to Coney, he'll tell you my stories is nothin'."
+
+"How about that hundred-foot pole?" inquired Poker Bill, as Bowles bowed
+and blushed.
+
+"Yes, sure!" agreed Brigham readily. "We'll take that one now and let it
+go fer the bunch. If that's true, they're all true, eh?"
+
+"That's me!" observed Bill laconically.
+
+"All right, then, stranger," continued Brigham. "We'll jest leave the
+matter with you, and if what I said ain't true I'll never open my head
+again. I was tellin' these pore, ignorant Texas cotton-pickers that back
+at Coney Island they was a feller that did high divin'--ever see
+anything like that? All right, then, this is what I told 'em. I told 'em
+this divin' sport had a pole a hundred foot high, with a tank of water
+at the bottom six foot deep and mebbe ten foot square, and when it come
+time he climbed up to the top and stood on a little platform, facin'
+backwards and lookin' into a pocket mirror. Then he begun to lean over
+backwards, and finally, when everything was set, he threw a flip-flap
+and hit that tank a dead center without hurtin' himself a bit. Now, how
+about it--is that a lie?"
+
+He looked up at Bowles with a steady gaze; and that gentleman did not
+fail him.
+
+"Why, no," he said; "really, I see no reason to doubt what you say. Of
+course, I haven't been to Coney Island recently, but such events are
+quite a common occurrence there."
+
+"Now, you see?" inquired Brigham triumphantly. "This gentleman has been
+around a little. Back at Coney them stunts is nothin'! They don't even
+charge admission."
+
+"But how can that feller hit the water every time?" argued Bill the
+doubter, pressing forward to fight the matter out.
+
+"Don't make no difference how he does it," answered Brigham; "that's
+_his_ business. If people knowed how he done it, they wouldn't come to
+see 'im no more. By jicks, I'd jest like to take some of you fellers
+back to New York and show you some of the real sights. I ain't hardly
+dared to open my mouth since I took on with this ignorant outfit, but
+now that I got a gentleman here that's been around a little I may loosen
+up and tell you a few things."
+
+"Oh, my Joe!" groaned Hardy Atkins, making a motion like fanning bees
+from his ears. "Hear the doggone Mormon talk--and never been outer the
+Territory! Been pitchin' hay and drinkin' ditch-water down on the Gila
+all his life and----"
+
+"That's all right," retorted Brigham stoutly; "I reckon----"
+
+"Well, git out of the way!" shouted the voice of Buck. "And throw down
+that frame so I can roast these ribs!"
+
+That ended the controversy for the time, but before the ribs were cooked
+Brigham edged in another story--and he proved it by Mr. Bowles. It was a
+trifle improbable, perhaps, but Bowles was getting the spirit of the
+Great West and he vouched for it in every particular. Then when the ribs
+were done he cut some of the scorched meat from the bones, and ate it
+half-raw with a pinch of salt, for he was determined to be a true sport.
+Buck and Brigham devoured from one to two pounds apiece and gnawed on
+the bones like dogs; but Mr. Bowles was more moderate in his desires.
+What he really longed for was a bed or a place to sleep; but the
+gentleman who had coached him on cowboy life--and sold him his fancy
+outfit--had not mentioned the sleeping accommodations, and Bowles was
+too polite to inquire. So he hung around until the last story was told,
+and followed the gang back to the bunk-house.
+
+Each man went to his big blanket roll and spread it out for the night
+without a single glance at the suppliant, for a cowboy hates to share
+his bed; but as they were taking off their boots Brigham Clark spoke up.
+
+"Ain't you got no bed, stranger?" he inquired; and when Bowles shook his
+head he looked at Hardy Atkins, who as bronco-twister and top-hand held
+the job of straw-boss. A silence fell and Bowles glanced about uneasily.
+
+"There's a bed over there in the saddle-room," observed Atkins, with a
+peculiar smile.
+
+A startled look went around the room, and then Buck came in on the play.
+
+"Yes," he said, "that feller ain't here now."
+
+"Oh, thank you," began Bowles, starting toward it; but he was halted in
+his tracks by a savage oath from Brigham.
+
+"Here!" he ordered. "You come and sleep with me--that's Dunbar's bed!"
+
+"Dunbar's!" exclaimed Bowles with a gasp. "Ah, I see!" And with a secret
+shudder he turned away from the dead man's bed and crept in next to
+Brigham.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+WA-HA-LOTE
+
+
+The cowboy's day begins early, no matter how he spends his night. It was
+four o'clock in the morning and Bowles was dead with sleep when suddenly
+the light of a lantern was thrown in his eyes and he heard the cook's
+voice rousing up the horse wranglers.
+
+"Wranglers!" he rasped, shaking Brigham by the shoulder. "Git up, Brig;
+it's almost day!"
+
+"All right, Gus!" answered Brigham, cuddling down for another nap; but
+Gloomy Gus had awakened too many generations of cowboys to be deceived
+by a play like that, and on his way out to finish breakfast he stumbled
+over Brigham's boots and woke him up to give them to him. So, with many
+a yawn and sigh, poor Brigham and his fellow wrangler stamped on their
+boots and went out to round up the horse pasture, and shortly afterward
+a shrill yell from the cook gave notice that breakfast was ready. Five
+minutes later he yelled again and beat harshly on a dishpan; then, as
+the rumble of the horse herd was heard, he came and kicked open the
+door.
+
+"Hey, git up, boys!" he shouted. "Breakfast's waitin' and the remuda is
+in the c'rell! The old man will be down hollerin' 'Hawses!' before you
+git yore coffee!"
+
+The bite of the cold morning air swept in as he stood there and roused
+them at last to action. Swiftly Buck and Bill and Happy Jack rolled out
+and hustled into their clothes; other men not yet known by name hurried
+forth to wash for breakfast; and at last Bowles stepped out, to find the
+sky full of stars. A cold wind breathed in from the east, where the
+deceitful radiance of the false dawn set a halo on the distant ridges;
+and the cowboy's life, for the moment, seemed to offer very little to an
+errant lover. Around the cook's fire, with their coat collars turned up
+to their ears, a group of punchers was hovering in a half-circle,
+leaving the other half for Gloomy Gus. Their teeth chattered in the
+frosty silence, and one by one they washed their faces in hot water from
+the cook's can and waited for the signal to eat. Then the wranglers came
+in, half frozen from their long ride in the open pasture, and as Brigham
+poured out a cup of coffee, regardless, old Gus raised the lid from a
+Dutch oven, glanced in at the nicely browned biscuits and hollered:
+
+"Fly at it!"
+
+A general scramble for plates and cups followed; then a raid on the
+ovens and coffee-pots and kettles; and inside of three minutes twenty
+men were crouching on the ground, each one supplied with beans, biscuits
+and beef--the finest the range produced. They ate and came back for
+more, and Bowles tried to follow their example; but breakfast at home
+had been served at a later hour, and it had not been served on the
+ground, either. However, he ate what he could and drank a pint of coffee
+that made him as brave as a lion. It was real range coffee, that had set
+on the grounds over night and been boiled for an hour in the morning. It
+was strong, and made him forget the cold; but just as he was beginning
+to feel like a man again silence fell on the crowd, and Henry Lee
+appeared.
+
+In his riding boots, and with a wooden-handled old Colt's in his shaps,
+Mr. Lee was a different creature from the little man that Bowles had
+whipsawed on the previous evening. He was a dominating man, and as he
+stood by the fire for a minute and waited for enough light to rope by,
+Mr. Bowles began to have his regrets. It is one thing to bully-rag a man
+on his front steps, and quite another to ride bronks on a cold morning.
+The memory of a man named Dunbar came over him, and he wondered if he
+had died in the morning, when his bones were brittle and cold. He
+remembered other things, including Dixie Lee, but without any positive
+inspiration; and he took a sneaking pleasure at last in the fact that
+Mr. Lee appeared to have forgotten all about him.
+
+But Henry Lee was not the man to let an Eastern tenderfoot run it over
+him, and just as he called for horses and started over toward the corral
+he said to Hardy Atkins:
+
+"Oh, Hardy, catch up that Dunbar horse and put this gentleman's saddle
+on him, will you?"
+
+He waved his hand toward Bowles, whose heart had just missed a beat, and
+pulled on a trim little glove.
+
+"What--Dunbar?" gasped the bronco-twister, startled out of his calm.
+
+"Yes," returned Lee quietly. "The gentleman claims he can ride."
+
+"Who--him?" demanded Atkins, pointing incredulously at the willowy
+Bowles.
+
+"Yes--him!" answered the cattleman firmly. "And after what he said to me
+last evening he's either got to ride Dunbar or own himself a
+coward--that's all."
+
+"Oh," responded the twister, relieved by the alternative; and with a
+wink at Buck and the rest of the crowd he went rollicking out to the
+corral. By the usual sort of telepathy Hardy Atkins had come to hate and
+despise Bowles quite as heartily as Bowles had learned to hate him, and
+the prospect of putting the Easterner up against Dunbar made his feet
+bounce off the ground. First he roped out his own mount and saddled him
+by the gate; then, as the slower men caught their horses and prepared
+for the work of the day, he leaned against the bars and pointed out the
+man-killer to Bowles, meanwhile edging in his little talk.
+
+"See that brown over there?" he queried, as Bowles stared breathlessly
+out over the sea of tossing heads. "No, here he is now--that wall-eyed
+devil with his hip knocked down--he got that when he rared over and
+killed Dunbar. Can't you see 'im? Right over that bald-faced sorrel!
+Yes, that hawse that limps behind!"
+
+At that moment some impetuous cowboy roped at his mount and the round
+corral became a raging maelstrom of rushing horses, thundering about in
+a circle and throwing the dirt twenty feet high; but as a counter
+movement checked the charge and the wind blew the dust away, the lanky
+form of the horse that killed Dunbar loomed up on the edge of the herd.
+He was a big, raw-boned brute, colored a sunburned, dusty brown, and a
+limp in his off hind leg gave him a slinking, stealthy air; but what
+impressed Bowles the most was the sinister look in his eyes. If ever a
+horse was a congenital criminal, Dunbar was the animal. His head was
+long and bony and bulging around the ears, and his eyes were sunk deep,
+like a rattlesnake's, and with a rattlesnake's baleful glare. But there
+was more than a snaky wildness in them: the wicked creature seemed to be
+meditating upon his awful past, and scheming greater crimes, until his
+haggard, watchful eyes were set in a fixed, brooding stare. He was a bad
+horse, old Dunbar, and Atkins was there to play him up.
+
+"You want to be careful not to hurt that hawse," he warned, as Bowles
+caught his breath and started. "The boss expects to git a thousand
+dollars fer him at the Cheyenne Rough-Riding Contest next summer. Now
+that old Steamboat is rode, and Teddy Roosevelt is busted, they's big
+money hangin' up fer a bad hawse. Got to have one, you know. It's fer
+the championship of the world, and if they don't git another man-killer
+they can't have no contest. I would've tried him myself, but he's too
+valuable. How do you ride--with yore stirrups tied? No? Well, I reckon
+you're right--likely to get caught and killed if he throws himself over
+back. You ain't down here fer a Wild West Show, are ye? Uh-huh, jest
+thought you might be--knowed you wasn't a puncher. Well, we'll saddle
+him up fer you now--if you say so!"
+
+He lingered significantly on the last words, and Henry Lee, who was
+standing near, half smiled; but there must have been some sporting blood
+back in the Bowles family somewhere, for Mr. Bowles merely murmured:
+
+"If you will, please!" and got his saddle.
+
+So there was nothing for Atkins to do but go in and try to catch Dunbar.
+The bronco-twister shook out his rope, glanced at the boss, glanced at
+him again, and dropped reluctantly into the corral. Hardy Atkins would
+rather have taken a whipping than put a saddle on Dunbar; but he was up
+against it now, so he lashed his loop out on the ground and advanced to
+make his throw. One by one the horses that had gathered about Dunbar ran
+off to the right or left, and as the old man-killer made his dash to
+escape the long rope shot out with a lightning swiftness and settled
+around his neck. The twister passed the rope behind him, sat back on it
+and dug his high heels into the ground; but the jerk was too much for
+his hand-grip, and before anyone could tail on behind he let go and
+turned the horse loose.
+
+Then, as the great whirlpool of frightened horses went charging around
+the corral, Buck Buchanan, the man with the bull-moose voice, hopped
+down and rushed to the center. Some one threw an extra rope to Hardy
+Atkins, and once more they closed in on the outlaw. But the horse that
+killed Dunbar was better than the two of them, and soon he had a second
+rope to trail. A third and a fourth man leaped in to join the conflict;
+and as they roped and ran and fought with Dunbar the remuda went crazy
+with excitement and threatened to break down the fence.
+
+"Put up them bars!" yelled Hardy Atkins, as a beautiful, dappled black
+made a balk to leap over the gate. "Now all on this rope, boys--snub him
+to that post--oh, hell!" The pistol-like report of a grass rope parting
+filled out the rest of the sentence. Then the bronco-twister came
+limping over to the gate where Bowles and Henry Lee were sitting,
+shaking the blood from a freshly barked knuckle.
+
+"We can't hold the blinkety-blank," he announced, gazing defiantly at
+the boss. "And what's the use, anyhow?" he demanded, petulantly. "They
+ain't a bronk in the remuda that can't throw this Englishman a mile! Of
+course, if you want us to take a day to it----"
+
+"Well, catch Wa-ha-lote, then!" snapped Mr. Lee. "And be quick about it!
+I've got something else to do, Mr. Bowles," he observed tartly, "besides
+saddle up man-killers for a man that can't sit a trotting-horse!"
+
+This was evidently an allusion to Mr. Bowles' way of putting the English
+on a jog-trot; but Bowles was too much interested to resent it. He was
+watching Hardy Atkins advancing on the dappled black that had tried to
+jump the bars.
+
+"Oh," he cried enthusiastically, "is that the horse you mean? Oh, isn't
+he a beautiful creature! It's so kind of you to make the change!"
+
+"Ye-es!" drawled Mr. Lee; and all the cowboys smiled. Next to Dunbar,
+Wa-ha-lote was the champion scrapper of the Bat Wing. There had been a
+day when he was gentle, but ever since a drunken Texas cowboy had ridden
+him with the spurs his views of life had changed. He had decided that no
+decent, self-respecting horse would stand for such treatment and, after
+piling a few adventurous bronco-busters, had settled down to a life of
+ease and plenty. The finest looking horse in the remuda, by all odds,
+was old Wa-ha-lote, the Water-dog. He was fat and shiny, and carried his
+tail straight up, like a banner; the yellow dapples, like the spots on a
+salamander's black hide--whence his Mexican name, Wa-ha-lote--were
+bright and plain in the sunlight; and he held his head up high as he
+ramped around the corral.
+
+The sun had come up over the San Ramon Mountains while Hardy Atkins was
+wrestling with Dunbar; it soared still higher while the boys caught
+Wa-ha-lote. But caught he was, and saddled, for the horse never lived
+that a bunch of Texas punchers cannot tie. It was hot work, with skinned
+knuckles and rope-burned hands to pay for it; but the hour of revenge
+was at hand, and they called for Bowles. A wild look was in every eye,
+and heaven only knows what would have happened had he refused; but the
+hot sun and the excitement had aroused Mr. Bowles from his calm, and he
+answered like a bridegroom. Perhaps a flash of white up by the big house
+added impetus to his feet; but, be that as it may, he slipped blithely
+through the bars and hurried out to his mount.
+
+"Oh, what a beautiful horse!" he cried, standing back to admire his
+lines. "Do you need that blinder on his eyes?"
+
+"What I say!" commented Atkins, ambiguously. "Now you pile on him and
+take this quirt, and when I push the blind up you holler and throw it
+into 'im. Are you ready?"
+
+"Just a moment!" murmured Bowles, and for the space of half a minute he
+stood patting old Water-dog's neck where he stood there, grim and
+waiting, his iron legs set like posts and every muscle aquiver. Then,
+with unexpected quickness, he swung lightly into the saddle and settled
+himself in the stirrups.
+
+"All right," he said. "Release him!"
+
+"Release him it is!" shouted Atkins, with brutal exulting. "Let 'im go,
+boys; and--_yee-pah_!"
+
+He raised the blind with a single jerk, leaped back, and warped
+Wa-ha-lote over the rump with a coil of rope. Other men did as much, or
+more; and Bowles did not forget to holler.
+
+"Get up, old fellow!" he shouted.
+
+As the lashes fell, Wa-ha-lote made one mighty plunge--and stopped.
+Then, as the crowd scattered, he shook out his mane and charged straight
+at the high, pole gate. A shout went up, and a cry of warning, and as
+the cowboys who draped the bars scrambled down to escape the crash
+Bowles was seen to lean forward; he struck with his quirt, and
+Wa-ha-lote vaulted the bars like a hunter. But even then he was not
+satisfied. Two panel gates stood between him and the open, and he took
+them both like a bird; then the dust rose up in his wake and the Bat
+Wing outfit stood goggle-eyed and blasphemous.
+
+"W'y, the blankety-blank!" crooned Hardy Atkins.
+
+"Too skeered to pitch!" lamented Buck.
+
+"You hit 'im too hard!" shouted Happy Jack.
+
+"But that feller kin ride!" put in Brigham stoutly.
+
+"Aw, listen to the Mormon-faced dastard!" raved Hardy Atkins; and as the
+conversation rose mountain high, the white dresses up on the hill
+fluttered back inside the house. But when Bowles came riding back on
+Wa-ha-lote not even the outraged Hardy could deny that the Bat Wing had
+a new hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE ROUND-UP
+
+
+It is an old saying that there is no combination or percentage known
+that can beat bull luck. Bowles was lucky; but he didn't know how lucky
+he was, never having seen a real bronk pitch. After Wa-ha-lote had had
+his run he changed his mind again and decided to be good, and when
+Bowles galloped him back to the ranch he was as gentle as a dog, and the
+top horse in the remuda. Even when Bowles started to rise to the trot
+the Water-dog was no more than badly puzzled.
+
+By this time the outfit was pouring out the gate on their way to the
+belated round-up, and all except the principals had decided to take it
+as a joke. To be sure, they had lost an hour's daylight, and broken a
+few throw-ropes; but the time was not absolutely lost. Bowles would soon
+draw a bronk that _would_ pitch, and then--oh, you English dude! They
+greeted him kindly, then, with the rough good-nature you read so much
+about, and as Bowles loosened up they saw he was an easy mark.
+
+"Say, pardner," said one, "you sure can jump the fences! Where'd you
+learn that--back at Coney Island?"
+
+"Coney Island nothin'!" retorted another. "W'y, Joe, you show your
+ignorance! This gentleman is from England--can't you see him ride?"
+
+"Well, I knowed all along he was goin' to ride Wa-ha-lote," observed a
+third, oracularly. "I could tell by the way he walked up to him. How's
+he goin', stranger--make a pretty good buggy-horse, wouldn't he?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" beamed Bowles. "That is, I presume he would. He is one of
+the best gaited animals I ever rode. A perfect riding horse! Really, I
+can't remember when I've enjoyed such a glorious gallop!"
+
+They crowded around him then, in an anxious, attentive cluster, still
+jabbing their horses with the spurs to keep up with Henry Lee but
+salting away his naive remarks for future reference.
+
+Henry Lee was just making some little gathers near the home ranch while
+he waited for his neighbors to send in their stray men for the big
+round-up, and as the conversation rattled on in the rear he headed
+straight for a range of hills to the south. An hour of hard riding
+followed, and then, as they began to encounter cattle, he told off men
+by ones and twos to drive them in to the cutting ground. Hardy Atkins
+took another bunch of men and rode for a distant point, and soon the
+whole outfit was strung out in a great circle that closed in slowly upon
+a lonely windmill that stood at the base of the hills.
+
+As no one gave him orders, Bowles tagged along for a while and then
+threw in with Brigham, hoping to imbibe some much-needed information
+about the cow business from him; but a slow, brooding silence had come
+over that son of the desert and he confined his remarks to few words.
+
+"Don't crowd the cattle," he said; "and don't chase 'em. They's nothin'
+to it--jest watch the other hands."
+
+He mogged along glumly then, spitting tobacco and looking wise whenever
+Bowles made effusive remarks; and soon the spirit of the wide places
+took hold of the impressionable Easterner and taught him to be still.
+The sun was shining gloriously now, and the air was like new wine; he
+had conquered Wa-ha-lote, and won a job on the ranch; yet, even as the
+hot blood coursed in his veins and his heart leaped for joy, the solemn
+silence of burly Brigham exhorted him to peace. Nay, more than that, it
+set up uneasy questionings in his mind and made him ponder upon what he
+had said. Perhaps he had spoken foolishly in the first flush of his
+victory; he might even have laid himself open to future gibes and jests,
+branding himself for a tenderfoot with every word he said.
+
+Yes, indeed; perhaps he had. At any rate, the first words he heard as
+they neared the cutting-grounds were indicative of the fact.
+
+"Hey, Bill!" roared Buck Buchanan, wafting his bull voice across the
+herd. "Release that Bar X cow!"
+
+"Beg pahdon?" replied Bill, holding his hand behind his ear; and then
+there was a rumble of Homeric laughter that left Bowles hot with shame.
+
+"Hey, Buck!" echoed Happy Jack, reining his horse out to turn back an
+ambling steer; and while all hands watched him eagerly he struck into a
+rough trot across the plain. Then, holding out his elbows in a manner
+that he supposed to be English, he bobbed higher and higher at every
+jump until he fell face forward on his horse's neck, and the cowboys
+whooped for joy. Bowles was able to laugh at this joke, and he tried to
+do it graciously; but the sudden wave of good manners and faultless
+grammar which swept over the crowd left him heated and mad clear
+through. Any dreams he might have cherished of becoming the little tin
+hero of the cow country were shattered beyond repair, and he saw the
+American cowboy as he really is--a very frail and human creature, who
+scorns all things new and foreign, and particularly objects to Eastern
+tenderfeet who try to beat him at his own game.
+
+If Bowles had been piled in the dirt by his first mount and come limping
+forth with a grin, he would have won a corralful of friends by his grit;
+as it was, he had ridden Wa-ha-lote, a horse supposed to be a rank
+outlaw, and the cowboys were quick to resent it. Even the loyal Brigham
+had turned against him, looking on with a cynical smile as he saw him
+mocked; and as for Henry Lee, he could not even get near him. Scorn and
+anger and a patrician aloofness swept over Bowles' countenance by turns,
+and then he took Brigham's unspoken counsel and let the heathen rage. It
+was hard on his pride, but he schooled himself to endure it; and as cant
+phrase after cant phrase came back at him and he realized how loosely he
+had talked he decided in the future to keep his mouth shut. So far, at
+least, he had caught the great spirit of the West.
+
+But now for the first time there was spread out before his eyes the
+shifting drama of the cow country, and he could not resist its appeal.
+On the edge of a great plain and within sight of jagged rock-ribbed
+mountains he beheld the herd of lowing cattle, the remuda of spare
+horses, the dashing cowboys, the fire with its heating irons, and all
+the changing scenes that go to make up a Western branding. For a spell
+the herd stood still while mothers sought out their calves and restless
+bulls plowed in and out; then when the clamor and blatting had lulled,
+and all hands had got a drink and made a change of horses, a pair of
+ropers rode into the herd, marking down each cow and calf and making
+sure they were mother and offspring. At last, when Henry Lee and his
+neighbors' stray men were satisfied, the ropers shook out their loops,
+crowded in on some unbranded calf and flipped the noose over its head.
+Like automatons, the quick-stepping little cutting ponies whirled and
+started for the fire, dragging the calves behind them by neck or legs or
+feet. Any way the rope fell was good enough for the cowboys, and the
+ponies came in on the lope.
+
+Behind the calf pranced its frantic mother, head down and smelling its
+hide, and a pair of cowboys stationed for that purpose rode in and
+turned her back. Then the flankers rushed out and caught the rope, and
+the strong member seized the calf by its neck and flank and with an
+upward boost of the knees raised its feet from the ground and threw it
+flat on its side. One held up its head, the other the hind legs, and in
+a flash the ear-markers and hot-iron men were upon it, to give it a
+brand for life.
+
+"Bat Wing!" called the dragger-up, giving the mother's brand. There was
+a blat, a puff of white smoke, and the calf was turned back to his
+"Mammy." That was the process, very simple to the cowboy and entirely
+devoid of any suggestion of pain; but to Bowles it seemed rather brutal,
+and he went back to help hold the herd.
+
+As one roper after the other pursued his calf through the throng, or
+chased it over the plain while he made wild and ineffectual throws, the
+great herd milled and moved and shifted like a thing of life. At a
+distance of a hundred feet or more apart a circle of careless punchers
+sat their mounts, nominally engaged in holding the herd but mostly
+loafing on the job or talking it over in pairs. To Bowles it seemed that
+they were very negligent indeed, letting cows walk out which could have
+been turned back by the flip of a rope, and then spurring furiously
+after them as they made a break for the hills. If a calf which the
+ropers had failed to catch came dashing by, one guard, or even two,
+might leave his place to join in a mad pursuit, meanwhile leaving Bowles
+and Wa-ha-lote to patrol the entire flank of the herd. To be sure, he
+liked to do it; but their system seemed very poor to him, though he did
+not venture to say so.
+
+Meanwhile, with futile pursuits and monotonous waits, the branding
+dragged slowly along, and suddenly Bowles realized he was hungry. He
+looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly noon, but he could
+perceive no symptoms of dinner. He regretted now the insufficient
+breakfast which he had eaten, remembering with a shade of envy the
+primitive appetite which had enabled the others to bolt beefsteaks like
+ravening wolves; also, he resolved to put a biscuit in his pocket the
+next time he rode out on the circle. But this availed him nothing in his
+extremity, and as the others sought to assuage their pangs with
+brown-paper cigarettes he almost regretted the freak of nicety which had
+kept him from learning to smoke. It was noon now--seven hours since
+breakfast--and just as he was about to make some guarded inquiries of
+Brigham the work of branding ceased. The branders, their faces grimed
+and sweaty and their hands caked with blood, pulled on their heavy shaps
+and came riding up to the herd; but not to cry: "Release them!"
+
+Odious as these words had become to Bowles, they would have sounded good
+under the circumstances; but there was more work yet to come. Driving a
+bunch of old cows to one side for a "hold-up," Henry Lee and his
+strenuous assistants began cutting out dogie calves. Everything over a
+year old was fated to become a feeder and, while mothers bellowed and
+their offspring protested, Hardy Atkins and the best of the cowhands
+hazed the calves into the hold-up herd. It was a long and tedious
+operation, involving numerous wearisome chases after calves that wanted
+their mothers; and when at last it was done and the main herd was
+released, behold, a lot of cows and undesirables had to be cut back from
+the hold-up herd. Then the dogies had to be separated into yearlings and
+"twos"; and when Bowles was about ready to drop off his horse from
+weakness Henry Lee detailed a bunch of unfortunates to drive up the
+calves, and turned his pony toward home. To him it was just a little
+gather while the neighbors were sending in their men; but to Bowles it
+combined the extreme hardships of a round-up with the rigors of a forty
+days' fast.
+
+In a way it was all Bowles' fault, too, for he had kept the whole outfit
+waiting while he made a bluff at riding Dunbar. His resolution to keep
+his mouth shut stood him in good stead now, for a hungry man is a wolf
+and will fight if you say a word. There were no gay quips and gags now,
+no English riding and classic quotations; every man threw the spurs into
+his horse and started on a run for camp. Wa-ha-lote pulled at the bit a
+time or two at this, and Bowles did not try to restrain him; he broke
+into a gallop, free and sweeping as the wind, and the tired cutting
+horses fell behind; then as the ranch showed up in the distance he
+settled down to a tireless lope, eating up the hurrying miles until
+Bowles could have hugged him for joy.
+
+Here was a horse of a thousand--this black, named in an alien tongue
+Wa-ha-lote--and he longed as he rode into the ranch to give him some
+token of friendship--a lump of sugar, or whatever these desert horses
+liked best to eat--in order to hold his regard. So he trotted over to
+the cook's wagon, being extremely careful not to bob, and asked Gloomy
+Gus for a lump of sugar. Now Gus, as it happened, was in another bad
+humor, due to the boys' being an hour or so late, and to a second matter
+of which Bowles knew nothing; and he did not even so much as vouchsafe
+an answer to his request.
+
+"I beg your pardon," began Bowles again, when it was evident he was not
+going to get the sugar. "Perhaps you will give me a biscuit, then. You
+see," he explained rather shamefacedly, "I am riding this horse for the
+first time, and he has been so gentle I wanted to give him something.
+Any little thing, you know, and I shall be glad to pay for it----"
+
+"I am not cookin' fer hawses!" observed Gloomy Gus; but at the same time
+he glanced apprehensively toward a long pile of cord-wood which flanked
+his fire to the south; and as if to verify his suspicions a summer hat
+appeared from behind the tiers of crooked juniper and a lady stepped
+into view. She was a very beautiful lady, middle-aged and with haunting
+brown eyes; and the moment she turned them upon Bowles he knew she was
+Dixie Lee's mother. Not that she looked so much like the elusive Dixie
+May, but she had the same way with her eyes--and, besides that, she was
+very contained and quiet, and looked as if she came from the East. She
+gazed at him for a moment with a kind, motherly air--as if she had heard
+all he said--and addressed herself to the cook.
+
+"Well, really, Gus," she began, speaking in the low-pitched tones of the
+drawing-room, "I can't imagine what happens to those eggs. I have over
+forty hens, and surely they lay more than seven eggs a day. There's one
+nest, away in there, but----"
+
+"Well, _I_ ain't took none," grumbled Gus, turning sulkily to his pots
+and kettles; "that's all I got to say."
+
+"Pardon me," broke in Bowles, swinging lightly down from his horse and
+standing hat in hand, "perhaps I could creep in and----" He smiled as he
+had smiled at the ladies who attended the Wordsworth Society, and Mrs.
+Lee glanced at him approvingly.
+
+"Oh, don't trouble yourself," she said politely. "If it were humanly
+possible to reach them, I am sure they would be gone by now. I didn't
+mean to blame you at all, Mr. Mosby,"--this to the cook--"but, really, I
+was trying to save enough eggs to make the boys a cake."
+
+A wave of indignation swept over Bowles. He remembered those graceless
+"boys" roasting eggs by the fire at night, and he thought how little
+they deserved her kindness; but all he did was to murmur his
+appreciation. At this the lady looked at him again, like one who knows
+her own kind, and her voice was very pleasant as she said:
+
+"Oh, you are the young man that rode Wa-ha-lote this morning, aren't
+you? Ah, he is such a beautiful horse!" She came over and stroked his
+neck thoughtfully while Bowles stood by his head and smiled. "Don't you
+know," she said, "I have always claimed that a horse could be conquered
+by kindness. And I'm so glad!" she murmured, with a confidential touch
+of the hand. "Won't you come up to the house, and I'll give you that
+lump of sugar."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE QUEEN AT HOME
+
+
+The Bat Wing ranch, with its big white house on the hill, its whirling
+windmill, its tank that spread out like a lake and gleamed like liquid
+silver, its pole corrals, its adobe houses half shaded by wind-tossed
+cottonwoods, was one of the most sightly in Arizona. The yellow-white
+sheen of the bunch grass made the distance seem fair and inviting; at
+sunset the saw-toothed summits of the Tortugas changed to blues and
+purples and mysterious, canon-deep black; the heavy bunches of sacaton
+out in the horse pasture gleamed white in the evening glow. Many riders
+passed by that way, rigged out in the finery of their kind, and most of
+them took it all in--and yet, at times, the place looked kind of bare
+and tame.
+
+Bowles was a stranger to those parts and he admired the landscape
+mightily; but to him too it seemed a little bare. It needed a dash of
+color, a vigorous girlish figure in the foreground, to give it the last
+vivid touch. But the queen, of course, must be humored--let the picture
+wait! So Bowles waited, along with the rest of the bunch, and in the
+evening while they were at their supper the Queen of the Bat Wing came.
+At the Wordsworth Society she had been stunningly gowned in a creation
+which Bowles would not soon forget; on the train she had worn a tailored
+traveling dress, very severe and becoming, the only note of defiance
+being in the hat, which was her Western sombrero with a veil to take off
+the curse. But now the trimming was gone, and a silver-buckled,
+horsehair band took its place. Dixie May was back on her own range and
+she wore what clothes she pleased!
+
+First there was the hat, a trim, fifteen-dollar Stetson held on by a
+strap that lapped behind; then a white shirt-waist to supply the touch
+of color; a divided skirt of golden-brown corduroy; and high-heeled
+cowboy boots, very tiny, and supplied with silver-mounted spurs, ornate
+with Mexican conchos. She wore a quirt on her wrist, and her hair in
+Indian braids, and a fine coat of newly acquired tan on her cheeks.
+
+A silence fell on the squatting punchers as she ran lightly down from
+the house; one or two of them ducked out of sight as she passed through
+the gate, but the rest sat motionless, stoically feeding themselves with
+their knives, and waiting for the queen to pass. Only Bowles, the man
+from the East, rose up and took off his hat; but Dixie Lee remembered
+her promise, and never so much as looked at him.
+
+[Illustration: "ONLY BOWLES, THE MAN FROM THE EAST, ROSE AND TOOK OFF
+HIS HAT"]
+
+"Hello, Brig," she said, singling out the blushing Brigham for a teasing
+grin. "'Evening, Mr. Mosby. Say, Maw sent me down to look for some
+eggs--she wants to make a cake for these worthless punchers before she
+invites 'em up to hear the phonograph."
+
+"Well, well, Miss Dix," responded the cook, shuffling and ill at ease.
+"I'm afraid yore maw is goin' to be disapp'inted. If you can find any
+eggs around here, you're welcome to 'em. _I_ ain't got none hid
+out--that's all I'll say."
+
+"Oh, I know where they go to, Mr. Mosby," replied Dixie Lee, showing her
+white teeth in a knowing smile. "If a man will suck eggs, he'll
+steal--you know that saying yourself--and I can tell by the shells
+around the fire here what's going on o' nights."
+
+"Oh, that's that big fat Brigham Clark!" spoke up Hardy Atkins. "You
+don't want to judge the whole outfit by _him_!"
+
+At this bare-faced libel Bowles cleared his throat to speak. He had
+noticed particularly on the evening before that the eggs were brought in
+by Happy Jack and Hardy Atkins himself; but before he could enter a
+protest a general rumble of laughter set him back to a thinking part.
+
+"Yes, sir!" observed Buck Buchanan, speaking to the world at large.
+"That feller sucks aigs worse'n a setter pup."
+
+"An' he don't deny it none, neither," commented Happy Jack, as poor
+Brigham blushed deeper and hung his head.
+
+"Jest born that way, I reckon," remarked Poker-face in a tone of pity;
+and then the whole outfit broke into a whoop of laughter. It was a new
+form of jesting to Bowles, and he retired to the shelter of the
+wood-pile. A sudden gloom had come over his soul, and it even affected
+his appetite, whetted keen by the cold, thin air. Of course, Dixie Lee
+had told him she would do so, but it seemed rather heartless not to look
+at him. He sat down with his back against the jagged juniper stubs and
+listened sullenly, while the punchers chuckled in front of him and
+continued to eat with their knives.
+
+"Aw, Brig's jest bashful, that's all," explained some simple-minded
+joker, after every one else had had his say; and as his hollow laughter
+rose up, Bowles wondered dimly why Brigham did not retort. The evening
+before, when he was telling stories around the fire, he had returned a
+Roland for an Oliver until even Hardy Atkins had been content to quit;
+but now he confined himself to self-conscious mutterings and
+exhortations to shut up. Perhaps the simple-minded joker was right--poor
+Brigham was bashful.
+
+But Dixie Lee had come down to get some eggs and she did not allow camp
+persiflage to divert her from her purpose.
+
+"Well, say," she said, getting up from the cook's private seat, "I came
+down to hunt for eggs--who wants to help me?"
+
+"That's where I shine!" cried Hardy Atkins, throwing his tin plate into
+the washtub with a great clatter. "They's a nest around hyer in the
+wood-pile!"
+
+He capered around the end of the wood-pile, and soon Bowles could hear
+him panting as he forced his way in between the crooked sticks.
+
+"Hyer they are!" he shouted at last. "I got a whole hatful--somebody
+pull me out by the laig!"
+
+There was a ripple of high-pitched laughter from Dixie Lee, an interval
+in which Bowles cursed his fate most heartily, and then a frantic outcry
+from Hardy:
+
+"Hey, there, don't pull so fast! You Dix, you'll break my aigs! Well,
+laugh, then, doggone it! Now see what you went and done!"
+
+A general shout of laughter followed, and Hardy Atkins, his lips pouted
+out to play the fool, and his eyes rolling to catch their laughter, came
+ambling around the wood-pile with a hat that looked like an amateur
+conjurer's after the celebrated egg trick. But there were enough whole
+ones left to make a cake, and Happy Jack came galloping in with a hatful
+from his own private cache; so everybody laughed, though Brigham looked
+on sourly enough. A rapid fire of barbed jests followed; then, with her
+two admirers behind her and the others gazing dumbly on, Dixie Lee ran
+lightly back to the house, and Bowles had had his first lookin on ranch
+society. It did not look so good to him, either, and yet--well, just as
+Dixie May turned away she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
+To be sure, it was one of Hardy Atkins' raw jokes at which she was
+laughing, but somehow a golden glow crept into the sunset, and ranch
+society did not seem so bad.
+
+Five minutes later Dixie Lee was down at the corral bridling a
+white-faced roan, and soon, with Happy Jack for an escort, she was
+galloping away to the east where, like glowworms in the dusk, the
+scattered lights of settlers' houses showed the first beginnings of a
+neighborhood. The phonograph was going to play in the big house that
+evening, and all the "nesters" were invited.
+
+No one had been more outraged than Henry Lee when the first nesters came
+in on his range; but latterly he had come to regard them tolerantly as
+poor, misguided creatures, slightly touched in the head on the subject
+of high-and-dry farming. Having seen a few hundred of them starve out
+and move on, he had accepted them as a necessary evil, and deemed it no
+more than right, if the women-folks wanted to invite them, to ask the
+few nearest ones to the house and help them forget their misery. So the
+whole-souled Dixie May was off to call in the company while the cowboys
+were scraping their beards off and dolling up for the dance.
+
+It was Saturday night, as a matter of fact, and though all days are
+alike to a puncher his evenings are his own around the ranch. One by one
+the socially backward and inept caught the fever and began to search
+their war-bags for silk handkerchiefs and clean shirts. Only Brigham
+remained recalcitrant, and no argument could induce him to shave.
+
+"I was on the wrangle last night," he complained, as the forehanded ones
+came back to argue the matter, "and I'm short on my sleep. Say, lemme
+be, can't ye--what difference does it make to you fellers, anyway? They
+won't be girls enough to go around, nohow!"
+
+"Well, come up and hear the music," urged the Bar Seven stray man, who
+wanted him for company.
+
+"Mrs. Lee invited you, Brig," reminded Gloomy Gus, who believed that
+every man should do his duty.
+
+"Aw, it's too late to do anything now," grumbled Brigham, beginning at
+last to weaken. "And my beard is a fright, too!"
+
+"Soak it in hot water, then!" cried Bar Seven enthusiastically. "Come
+on, fellers; let's make 'im do it! It ain't right--a nice lady like Mrs.
+Lee! She'll think you're 'shamed because you done stole them aigs!"
+
+"I did not!" denied Brigham hotly.
+
+"Well, come along, then!" countered Bar Seven triumphantly, "or the boys
+will be tellin' everybody!"
+
+So the last unwilling victim was cajoled into going, and at a cheery
+summons from Dixie May they marched up the hill in a body. It was too
+early yet for the nester girls to appear, and while they were waiting
+for the dance to begin the twenty or more punchers wedged into the big
+front room and settled down to hear the phonograph. A cattle ranch
+without a phonograph nowadays is as rare as a cow outfit without a
+mouth-organ; but the Lees had a fine one, that would play for dances on
+a scratch, and a rack piled high with classic records. Mrs. Lee sat
+beside it, and after welcoming the self-conscious cowboys she asked them
+what they would have.
+
+"The barnyard one!" somebody called; and as the cow mooed, the pig
+squealed, and the hired girl called the chickens, the cowboys laughed
+and forgot their feet. Then Caruso sang a high one, caught his breath
+and expired, and the company shifted in their seats. That was not
+exactly their style.
+
+"What's the matter with the dog fight?" cried a voice from the corner;
+and Mrs. Lee, who had dreams of elevating their taste, sat undecided,
+with the sextet from _Lucia_ in her hand.
+
+"Perhaps you would like the _Anvil Chorus_," she suggested by way of a
+concession.
+
+"No, the dog fight!" clamored Hardy Atkins from the same corner. Then,
+quoting from the well-known favorite, he inquired in up-stage Irish:
+"'Will some sport kindly let Mr. Ho-ogan, the time-keeper, hold his
+watch?'"
+
+"'Faith,'" broke in Happy Jack, continuing the selection, "'an' who will
+hold Ho-ogan, then--har, har, har, har, har!'"
+
+So contagious was the spell of this laughter that there was nothing for
+it but to put on the record, which gave a dog fight in Harlem from the
+time the bets were made till the spotted dog licked and the place was
+raided by the police. Not very elevating, to be sure, but awfully
+popular, and calling for more of the same. Mrs. Lee sighed wearily and
+laid the sextet aside; then, with quick decision, she resigned her place
+to Dixie May and retired to a seat by the door--and, as luck would have
+it, she sat down next to Bowles.
+
+"Won't you take my chair?" he said, rising with all the gallantry of his
+kind. "I enjoyed that _Donna e Mobile_ of Caruso's so much!"
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Lee, beaming with pleasure, "you know it, then! And do
+you care for it, too?"
+
+"Very much!" replied Bowles, falling back into the familiar formula of
+polite conversation; and by the time the phonograph had started up on
+"Casey Jones" they were deep in a discussion of classic music. As often
+happens in good society, they discovered a wonderful similarity in their
+likes and dislikes; and by the time the nester girls began to arrive and
+the dance started up on the gallery, Bowles was very popular in the big
+house--that is, as far as the hostess was concerned.
+
+But the climax of the evening came at the close of the dance, just as
+Mr. Bowles was taking his leave.
+
+"Well, good-night, Mrs. Lee," he murmured as he stood in the half light
+of the porch. "It was so kind of you to invite us up."
+
+He paused then with the rest of his politenesses unsaid, for Dixie Lee
+was coming down the hall.
+
+"I can't say how much I have enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Bowles,"
+returned the lady, offering him her hand. "It takes me back to my
+girlhood days, when music was the breath of my life. Perhaps----Oh,
+Dixie, have you met Mr. Bowles?"
+
+There was silence for a moment as their eyes met across the abyss, hers
+stern and forbidding, his smiling and conciliatory; and then Dixie bowed
+very stiffly.
+
+"Why, not that I remember," she replied, with a militant toss of the
+head.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Lee," observed Mr. Bowles, bowing formally as he
+received his conge. "So glad to make your acquaintance!" And, murmuring
+other maddening phrases, he bowed himself out the door, leaving Dixie
+Lee to explain the feud in any way she chose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A COWBOY'S LIFE
+
+
+As the name of the Deity, to a cowboy, means little more than a word to
+swear by, so the holy Sabbath is forgotten as a day of rest. Not that
+the hard-riding puncher would not rest if he got the chance, but the
+traditions of the cow business make no allowances for godliness and
+ease. For forty dollars and found, the round-up hand is expected to work
+every day in the month, and take all his Sundays in a bunch when the
+boss writes out his time. From daylight to dark are his hours of labor,
+with horse wrangling and night-guard to boot; and yet there are men of
+elegance and leisure who try to crush in on the job.
+
+Mr. Bowles rolled into bed a perfect gentleman, and something of a
+knight-errant as well; but when Gloomy Gus gave vent to his shrill
+morning call he turned in his blankets and muttered. As the dishpan
+yammered and clashed discordantly he shuddered like a craven; and when
+Gus finally kicked open the door he could have cursed like any
+cow-puncher. It was a dreary life he had elected to follow, a life of
+drudgery, hardship, and discomfort, and with no compensating element but
+the danger of getting killed. And all for the sake of a girl who never
+had met him before!
+
+Bowles crawled out very slowly and stood shivering by the fire,
+marveling at the iron endurance of Gloomy Gus, and understanding his
+gloom. Never again, he resolved, as he drank a pint of hot coffee, never
+again would he address Mr. Mosby in aught but terms of respect. A man
+who could stand his life and still wear the mantle of self-restraint was
+worthy of a place among the stoics. And to get up alone--alone and of
+his own volition--at three-thirty and four of the morning! It was a task
+to give a Spartan pause and win an enduring fame among the gods. A large
+humility came over Bowles as he contemplated the rough men about him and
+observed how uncomplainingly they accepted their lot. And they had been
+at the work for months and years--it was the second day for him!
+
+The cook beat on his pan, and at the thought of the long ride before him
+Bowles did his best to eat--to eat heartily, ravenously, to gorge
+himself full of meat against the hours of hunger to come; and, passing
+up the three-tined steel fork, he went to it with his knife and spoon.
+
+"You make the finest biscuits I have ever eaten, Mr. Mosby," he observed
+by way of apology as he slipped one into his pocket; and the sleep-weary
+eyes of the cook lighted up for a moment before he summoned his cynical
+smile.
+
+"That's what they all say--when they're hungry," he remarked. "Then when
+they've et a plenty they throw 'em in the dirt."
+
+He waved his hand at a circle of white spots that lay just outside the
+firelight, and turned to begin his dishwashing. Then, seeing that Mr.
+Bowles was still interested, he dilated on his troubles.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said; "a cowboy is jest naturally wasteful--if he wasn't,
+he wouldn't be a cowboy. He'll take a whole biscuit and eat half of it
+and throw the other half away. There you see 'em out there, jest like I
+been seein' 'em fer forty years and more. It's in the blood. A cowboy
+wastes his grub, he wastes his terbakker, he wastes his money. He wastes
+cows, and hawses--an' he wastes his life. I got my opinion of a man that
+will work like a dog fer forty dollars a month. These hyer boys know
+what I think of 'em."
+
+The cowboys grinned sheepishly and backed up nearer the fire. It was
+still too dark to rope, and they were waiting for Henry Lee; and the
+cold starlight made them solemn. When the sun came up and they got a
+horse between their knees they would laugh old Gus to scorn; now they
+listened to him soberly in lieu of sprightlier conversation.
+
+"And me," continued Gloomy Gus, as he sensed the heavy silence, "I work
+harder than any of 'em. The mornin' star don't catch me in bed--no, sir!
+Not after half-past three. I got to git up then and mix my bread. And
+come night time, after my long day's work, I got to set my dough. But I
+git paid fer it--eighty dollars a month--and you can have the job
+to-morrer."
+
+He paused again, as if to emphasize the lack of bidders, and then went
+deftly about his task.
+
+"No, sir," he said; "you don't see no one strikin' fer the job of cook.
+That's hard work, that is. These boys all want to sit on a hawse and see
+the world go by."
+
+Once more the heavy silence fell upon them, and Brigham picked up a
+towel and began to wipe the dishes.
+
+"Goin' out to-day?" he inquired, as the boys began to straggle toward
+the corral.
+
+"That's the word!" returned the cook. "Dinner at the north well, and
+back ag'in fer supper. Pack up and unpack, and pack ag'in at the well.
+Then cook a dinner and hook up the hawses, and cook some more at the
+home. Ef Henry Lee don't git me a flunky pretty soon I'm shore goin' to
+up and quit."
+
+He glanced significantly at Bowles as he finished this last remark, but
+Brigham shook his head.
+
+"I seen that Pringle kid come in yisterday," he said. "Mebbe you could
+git to have him."
+
+That closed the conversation, and Bowles moved away. He was sorry for
+Mr. Mosby, very sorry; but not sorry enough to take a job as official
+dishwasher. Somehow all the world seemed to be in a conspiracy to make
+him flunky to the cook.
+
+He hurried over to the corral, where the roping was going on, and as he
+neared the gate he met the boss coming out. On the previous day Mr. Lee
+had seemed a little under the dominance of his feelings, but this
+morning he was strictly business.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," he said, "I'll keep my word with you and take you on for a
+puncher. Do your work and keep off Dunbar, and I'll try to get along
+with you--otherwise you get your time. Now come on back and I'll cut you
+out a mount."
+
+He tied his own horse to a post, and swung up on the corral fence.
+
+"You get two gentle horses and five bronks," he continued; "and I'll
+call Wa-ha-lote a bronk."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" began Bowles; but the boss checked him right there.
+
+"You've got nothing to thank me for, young man," he said. "I'd rather
+lose a top hand any time than take on a tenderfoot, so don't think for a
+minute that I'm stuck on you. Passed my word, that's all--and Wa-ha-lote
+forgot to buck. Now you see that gray over there--the one with the
+saddle-marks on his back--that's one of 'em--he's gentle. See this
+little sorrel, right close--that's Scrambled Eggs--he's a bronk. Then
+you can have that red roan over there for a night horse, and I'll cut
+you out some more bronks bymeby. You ride old Gray and the roan for a
+while--understand? And I employ a twister to break my wild stock, so
+keep off of them bronks--if--you--please."
+
+He added this last as if he really meant it, and left Bowles to wonder
+at his emphasis--but not for long. The times called for action. He was a
+puncher now, and it was necessary for him to lasso his mount. So,
+shaking out his new rope, which snarled and crawled in a most
+disconcerting fashion, the new cowboy dropped down into the corral,
+while everybody who could conveniently do so stepped up and looked over
+the fence. But Bowles had had a few days' training at the hands of Jim
+Scrimsher, the livery-stable keeper and all-round horse trader and
+confidence man at Chula Vista, and he shook out a fairly good loop.
+Then, swinging it above his head, he advanced upon the gray, who
+promptly put the whole herd between them, and raced along next the
+fence. The roan came along just then and Bowles made a cast at him and
+caught two others, who instantly made away with his rope.
+
+A yell went up from along the top of the fence; and with many shouts of
+encouragement and veiled derision, they threw him a new rope. This was a
+worn one and capable of dexterous handling, and, with a set smile on his
+face, Bowles shook out a big loop and advanced cautiously upon the roan.
+By this time he, too, had read the hypnotic message of the eye, and had
+crowded well in behind the main herd, which was dashing around the
+corral with ever-increasing speed. The slashing rope-work of the old
+hands had already left the horse herd nervous and flighty, and something
+about the way Bowles whirled his wide-flung loop seemed to drive them
+into a frenzy. A shout of warning went up, and then another, and then,
+as Wa-ha-lote made another balk at the gate, Hardy Atkins rushed out
+through the cloud of dirt and signaled him to stop.
+
+"What do you want to do?" he yelled. "Break down the fence?"
+
+He edged in on the leaders as he spoke and soon brought them to a halt;
+then, with his eyes on another horse, he stepped in close, dragging his
+loop, until suddenly he whipped it over the old gray's head and jerked
+him out of the herd.
+
+"Here's yore hawse," he said, handing him over the rope's end. "And,
+say, if you can't rope without swingin' a Mother Hubbard, jest let me
+ketch yore hawse!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Bowles.
+
+"Oh, nawthin'," sneered the bronco-twister, "only it skeers 'em to
+death--that's all. Old Henry generally gives a man his time fer swingin'
+his loop in the corral."
+
+Bowles followed along after him, flushed and downcast over his mistake;
+and as the others saddled their prancing bronks and went pitching and
+plunging around the horse lot he threw his saddle on the old,
+moss-backed gray and watched them with a wholesome awe. Horse after
+horse, as his rider hooked the stirrup, flew back or kicked like a
+flash. Some bucked the saddles off and had to be mastered by brute
+force. Here it was that the green-eyed Hardy Atkins, that long and
+lissom twister whom he so heartily despised, stood out like a riding
+king among the men. If a horse would not stand, he held it by the ears;
+if it bucked its saddle off, he seized an ear in his teeth, and hung on
+like a bulldog until the girths were cinched; and then, if the rider but
+said the word, he topped it off in his place. And all with such a
+tigerish swing, such a wild and masterful certitude, that even Bowles
+could not but secretly admire him.
+
+It was nearing the first of April, when the wagon went out on the
+round-up, and the boys were topping off their mounts in order to gentle
+them for the spring work. Shrill yells and whoops went up as man after
+man uncocked his bronk; and then, as the procession filed out the gate,
+Hardy Atkins swung up on his own and went whipping and plunging after
+them. This was the big event of the day, and all hands craned their
+necks to view it; but the real spectators were up by the big white
+house, where Dixie Lee and her mother stood watching.
+
+"Good boy, Hardy!" cried Dixie May, waving her hat to flag him. "Stay
+with him, Hardy!" And while the wild brute bucked and grunted beneath
+the steady jab of the spurs his rider raised a slender hand and waved it
+in salute. Bowles came dragging after him, sitting up very straight on
+old Gray; but nobody gave him a gay salute or so much as noticed him
+pass. Big Snake, the outlaw, was sun-fishing and doing buck-jumps, and
+every eye was upon the gallant rider who sat him so limber and
+free--Hardy Atkins, bronco-twister, and top cowboy at the Bat Wing.
+
+"Pitch, then, you bastard," he was shouting. "Buck, you wild, woolly
+wolf--I'll put a hat on you!"
+
+Bowles did not know what a "hat" was as he rode along out the gate, but
+when the cattle were thrown together and the wrangler brought up the
+spare horses, he knew. Walking across the brushy flat came Hardy Atkins,
+leading the worn and whip-marked Snake at a slow walk; and as he drew
+near, Bowles saw the "hat," a great, puffed-up swelling, raw and bloody,
+where the spur had jabbed his side. And there was a look in the outlaw's
+haggard eye that reminded him of old Dunbar--a wild, homicidal stare,
+yet tragic with fear and pain. As he reached the horse herd the twister
+looked back and regarded his mount intently; then very cautiously he
+worked up to his head and caught him by the cheek-strap.
+
+"Don't you bite me, you devil," he threatened as the Snake showed all
+his teeth, "or I'll beat yore brains out with this quirt!"
+
+The Big Snake winced and crooked his neck sullenly; then, as the twister
+snapped up the stirrup and uncinched the saddle with his free hand, he
+sighed and hung his head. With a deft jerk the puncher stripped off
+saddle and blanket; he reached up between his ears and laid hold of the
+headstall, then with a heave he tore off the bridle and landed his boot
+in the Snake's ribs.
+
+"Git, you owl-headed old skate!" he yelled; and the Snake cow-kicked at
+him like a flash of light.
+
+"Hah!" laughed the twister, stepping dexterously aside; and, swinging
+the bridle as he ducked, he brought the heavy reins down across his
+mount's rump. Again there was a flash of light as the Snake lashed out
+from behind; and then he limped off to one side, his eyes glowing with
+impotent rage and hate. Bowles looked at him as he lay wearily down in
+the sand, and then at the man who had conquered him, and a glow crept
+into his own eyes--a glow very much like the Big Snake's. He had entered
+a new world, with a different standard of courage and hardihood, and the
+first look at it frightened and awed him. But though he knew he could
+not meet its standards nor measure up to its tests, he scorned the man
+who could, and hated him for his rude strength--and his sympathy went
+out to Big Snake, the outlaw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+REDUCED TO THE RANKS
+
+
+The last place in the world for a humanitarian is around a cow camp, for
+everything there seems to savor of cruelty and blood. The only
+anti-cruelty-to-animals man who ever made a winning in the cattle
+business was good old Dr. Maverick, of Texas, who, when they made up the
+first brand book, swore he could not bring himself to cut an ear or burn
+a brand and craved the privilege of letting his cattle run unmarked. So,
+when it came to the round-up, the old doctor received his reward, for he
+claimed every maverick in the bunch and took them home for his own. This
+was a long time ago, in the age of myth and fable, and the doctor's herd
+has been sadly decimated since by rustlers and ruthless brand blotchers.
+A brand that can't be burned over is more precious than rubies now; and
+the bigger it is, the better.
+
+The Bat Wing was an old brand, dating back to some Mexican Manuel
+Ortega, or Mariano Ortiz, who had writ his initials large on the left
+hip of his steers, M above O, connected. With years the O had shrunk and
+the M spraddled out until it looked like a winged disk--and had taken on
+different names: Money-bug, from its resemblance to a dollar on the
+wing; Bat-out-o'-hell, from a similar frontier fancy; until finally it
+settled down to plain Bat Wing. But whatever else happened to the Bat
+Wing brand, the iron never got any smaller; in fact, the reason the M
+grew so big that it flew away with the O was because a calf's hip widens
+out at the top and if the whole space is securely covered there will be
+no room left for illicit alterations.
+
+This is all very interesting and romantic, of course, when taken by
+itself; but nobody stopped to explain it to Bowles, the humanitarian
+cowboy. When the cattle were on the cutting-grounds and the branding was
+about to begin, Henry Lee cast a contemptuous glance at his new hand and
+decided to put him to work.
+
+"Bowles," he said, "you help with the flanking."
+
+So when the first little calf came gamboling in on the line, Bowles
+rushed out and seized the rope. Working down to the calf, he caught it
+by its neck and flank and finally wrestled it to the ground. He was
+casting loose the rope when Buck Buchanan grabbed the calf by the upper
+hind leg, braced his boot against the lower leg, and sat comfortably
+down behind. Then Happy Jack came ramping out with a red-hot stamp-iron
+and slapped it against the tender hide.
+
+"Baaa!" blatted the little calf, rolling its eyes until they showed the
+whites. "Baaa!" And then, before it knew what was happening, Hardy
+Atkins knelt roughly on its neck, grabbed its left ear, and cut away
+half of it at a single stroke of the knife. "Baaa!" bellowed the calf,
+curling up its tail; and as the blood trickled forth Bowles felt himself
+grow sick and faint.
+
+"Hold his head up!" directed Atkins; and then, with an impatient yank,
+he twitched up the second ear and cut a swallow-fork. The calf writhed
+and struggled to escape, and as he fought against it Bowles caught the
+stench of burning hair. Turning, he discovered Happy Jack still bearing
+down on the hot iron and searing it deep into the flesh. That finished
+Bowles, and he sank back on the ground, turning his victim loose.
+
+"You want to hold their heads up," remarked Buck Buchanan, and Bowles
+nodded and answered faintly. What he really wanted was a chance to guard
+the herd; but orders were orders with Henry Lee, and if he failed to do
+his work he was fired. Another calf came in--a big, lusty yearling--and
+Buck made a motion with his hand.
+
+"Ketch that one," he directed in a fatherly tone of voice, and Bowles
+staggered out to do or die. But a yearling calf can be a very
+obstreperous brute on occasion, and this one was hot from his run.
+Within a minute after he had grappled with it all thought of pity had
+died out in Bowles' breast. First he caught the bull calf by the neck
+and flank and tried to pull it over; then, as it fought against him and
+trampled on his feet, he seized its further legs and tried to lift them
+up; failing in this, he laid hold of it in a frenzy and tried to throw
+it by main strength.
+
+"Git yore knees under him," suggested Buck from the middle distance.
+Then, after another period of waiting, he slouched ponderously out and
+shoved him aside.
+
+"Let me at 'im," he said. "You're keepin' Bill waitin' for his rope."
+
+He felt of the calf for a minute and pushed him to make him change his
+feet; then, as the yearling started to step, he boosted him with his
+knees, heaved him into the air, and slammed him down on his side. It was
+a man's job, and difficult for the best of them, but Bowles didn't know
+that. All he knew was that the boss was watching him, over there by the
+fire where he was keeping tally on the brands, and thinking what a
+tenderfoot he was. And he was right--Bowles conceded it. He could not
+catch his horse, he could not ride a bronk, he could not even throw a
+calf or lift it off the ground. And his back ached, awfully.
+
+It was a long morning for Mr. Bowles, packed with misery and hopeless
+struggling, like a nightmare without end. They say that in the short
+time between the instant a man starts falling out of bed and the moment
+he hits the floor, he can pass through a very inferno of dreams, passed
+down from our tree-living ancestors and striking terror to the
+heart--and yet he generally wakes up before he lands. If he did not, so
+the old nurses say, he would surely, surely die. The jagged rocks that
+threatened him in his dream would pierce his quivering body and he would
+be found dead on the floor. The coroner would call it heart-failure, of
+course; and that was what threatened Bowles.
+
+He was saved by a sound he had cursed that very morning--Gloomy Gus
+beating on his dishpan! Packing all his kit into the chuck-wagon, and
+throwing on a few sticks of wood, the cook had struck out through the
+dog towns and across the brushy flats and set up his fire irons by the
+side of a man-made lake. There he had gone busily about his task without
+waiting for the herd to come in; and just as Bowles was dropping dead,
+the dinner-call saved his life.
+
+It had been a bad dream, but, thank Heaven, he had waked up before he
+struck. A pint of scalding coffee, black and bitter from much boiling,
+and he was able to look about; and as he disposed of a couple of
+beefsteaks and dipped his biscuits in the grease, the weak place in his
+middle seemed comforted; and by the time he got around to the "fruit"
+and syrup he felt almost like a man again. Such jests as had been passed
+upon his condition had fallen upon unhearing ears, but now that he was
+brought back to health and strength he was able to smile grimly at his
+appearance as mirrored in the honest lake.
+
+His face, which he had neglected to wash before eating, was crusted with
+sweat and dirt and spotted with gouts of blood; his hair was matted and
+dust-powdered; and in the bloodshot and haggard orbs that gazed up at
+him from the placid depths he saw a look that made him start. It was a
+cruel, vindictive look, almost inhuman in its intensity; and it came
+from flanking bull calves. He looked down at his hands, all swollen and
+crabbed from clutching, and saw that they were caked with blood. His
+shirt, too, and his trim-fitting trousers were dirty and spattered with
+gore. In fact--and here was where the grim smile came in--he could
+hardly be told from a real cowboy!
+
+After dinner the cutting and branding went on as before, but with this
+important difference--Bowles flanked only his share of the calves. There
+were two sets of flankers, two hot-iron men, and two ear-markers, and
+the calves came up as they were caught. A really ambitious flanker, out
+for experience, could get almost all the calves; but the only ones that
+Bowles ran after now were the ones that were easy to throw. If a
+yearling came dancing up on a rope, he stepped on his own foot and let
+the other man beat him to it--either that or turned him over to Buck. It
+was quick work; but Bowles had a college education--he had been only six
+hours a cowboy when he learned to malinger on the job.
+
+As for the rest of the gang, inured as they were to hard labor, the
+branding was no more than a picnic for them. They found time to take
+chews of tobacco, tell stories, and watch all the roping; and if any
+calf turned out to be too big for flanking they grabbed him by the neck
+and made him run, and bulldogged him, "California fashion." Happy Jack
+was best at that, and several times in a fit of emulation he shoved some
+puncher aside and showed him how it ought to be done--but never for
+Bowles. It was strange how carefully they all avoided him--never looking
+at him, rarely addressing him, and answering his inquiries with a word.
+He was an alien, a stranger among them, and--slowly the truth was borne
+in on him--an inferior.
+
+From the start Bowles had taken it for granted that they were abashed,
+tongue-tied by his obvious education, and awed by his gentlemanly
+bearing. But now they would not so much as laugh at him, lest it
+encourage him to familiarity. Never for a minute did they allow him to
+presume on their sufferance, and his remarks fell dead and flat. Even
+Henry Lee, who had the bearing and spoke the language of a gentleman,
+refused to encourage him by a word; and at last he retired within
+himself, and saved his breath for flanking and his wits for dodging
+work.
+
+If a cowboy never soldiered on the job he would be dead before it came
+pay-day; but there are certain tasks which cannot be slighted, and one
+of these is bringing home the herd. After the day's branding the calves
+are cut into "ones" and "twos," and while the rest of the outfit troops
+gaily homeward somebody must stay behind and bring up the cut. One of
+them must be a cowman, for trailing is an art in itself, but the others
+are likely to be dubs. Certainly no boss would penalize his best hands
+and most willing workers by giving them such a task; and so, when the
+cutting was over and Henry Lee looked around for a poor hand, or one who
+had been soldiering on the job, he picked Bowles on both counts.
+
+"Bowles," he said, "you help Brigham bring up those twos!" And that was
+all there was to it. But to Brigham he spoke differently. It was "Brig,"
+with him; and instead of an order it was a request.
+
+"Brig," he said, "I'll ask you to take charge of the twos. Drive 'em
+easy and put 'em in the north pasture."
+
+"All right, sir," answered Brigham in a friendly, off-hand way, and then
+the drive began. Mounted upon a rough-coated bronk that fought his bit
+constantly yet responded to every touch of rein or spur, the burly
+puncher rode back and forth, from the rear to the flank, and then up
+near the point; and when he had them strung out to suit him he traveled
+along on one side, while Bowles brought up the rear. It was weary work,
+after the long day of flanking, and as the weaker ones began to get
+footsore they fell back to the drag and more than doubled his labors. At
+times Brigham Clark dropped back and strung them out for him again; but
+he said nothing, chewing placidly on his tobacco and giving all his
+thought to the cattle. Still the drag increased, and as they began to
+lag behind, Bowles let down his rope and lashed them with the loop. It
+was then that Brigham Clark spoke.
+
+"Don't do no good to whip 'em," he remarked, falling back to string them
+out. "They'll travel as fast as the leaders--jest let 'em go."
+
+So Bowles put up his rope and let them go, and soon they fell farther
+behind; but about the time he was preparing to whip them anyway, the
+cowman dropped back from the flank.
+
+"Now, that's the way to handle cattle," he said, nodding at the plodding
+line. "String 'em out and crowd the leaders--the drag will take care of
+itself."
+
+At that he was gone again; and for an hour or more he rode tirelessly up
+and down the side, filling up every hole and gap and shoving the leaders
+ahead. The cottonwoods of the home ranch showed green against the hills,
+and the end of their drive was in sight, when suddenly Brigham held up
+his hand to stop.
+
+"Let 'em feed a while," he said, as Bowles rode up to inquire. "The drag
+is gittin' weak." Then he sat silent on his rough-haired bronk, his
+inscrutable eyes gazing dully over the plain to the south, and Bowles
+dropped wearily off his horse and stretched himself out on the ground.
+Half an hour afterward he roused up with a start just as Dixie Lee,
+mounted on a long, rangy bay, came galloping up the road. Her eyes were
+very bright, and her cheeks were flushed from riding against the wind,
+and as she reined her horse in with a jerk her hair framed her face like
+a halo. But she did not see Bowles, though he stood up and took off his
+hat.
+
+"Hello, Brig," she called. "Watching 'em pick the flowers?"
+
+"Yes'm," answered Brigham, grinning amiably. "Watchin' 'em pluck the
+blossoms. What's goin' on down below now? Seen you go down there several
+times."
+
+"Oh, you're still keeping track of me, are you?" queried Dixie Lee
+gaily. "Well, you want to look out, Brigham--I'm getting awfully
+interested in a young Texican down there. He's got a nice farm,
+too--hundred and sixty acres!"
+
+"Sure!" agreed Brigham. "All covered with loco weed and this nice white
+stuff!"
+
+He nodded at the glistening alkali along the flat, and his eyes twinkled
+with furtive humor as Dixie Lee raised her quirt.
+
+"Aw, Brigham," she chided, "I believe you're jealous!" She leaned
+forward as she spoke, and the bay broke into a gallop, while Dixie sent
+a laugh down the wind.
+
+"Heh, heh, heh," chuckled Brigham, reaching into his vest for a
+cigarette paper. "That's Dix, all right. Don't you know, stranger," he
+went on as he rolled himself a smoke, "that's the finest gal in Arizona.
+Good folks an' all that, but nothin' stuck up about her. Heh, heh,
+mighty nigh ast her to marry me one time, but couldn't quite cut
+it--she's been joshin' me ever since. Got 'em all comin' and won't have
+none of 'em. Oh, hookey, wisht I wasn't a common, ornery cow-punch!"
+
+He paused and smoked a while, still gazing at the streak of dust.
+
+"Good rider, too," he observed; "beat most of the boys. I knowed her
+four miles away by section lines."
+
+Once more he paused, and Bowles preserved his Sphinx-like silence. He
+was learning the customs of the country fast.
+
+"Don't have any like her back where you come from, I reckon," suggested
+Brigham, his eyes shining with local pride; and Bowles sadly shook his
+head. No, they did not--there was no one like Dixie Lee.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE FIRST SMILE
+
+
+The next three days were one long, aching agony for Bowles. He carried a
+little water for Gloomy Gus, but stubbornly refused the job of flunky.
+He helped the horse wrangler--a wild-eyed youth who could pop a rope
+like a pistol-shot and yell like a murdering Apache--but as resolutely
+refused the job of assistant. He had been taken on as a cowboy, and a
+cowboy he tried to be, though every nerve and muscle called a halt. From
+the first morning, when they sent him out in the dark to wrangle the
+horse pasture, to the third evening, when he crawled wearily into an old
+"bed" that he had picked up, his life was a prolonged succession of
+accidents, mistakes, and awkward happenings; yet he stayed with it,
+bull-headed and determined, until Henry Lee grew tired of hazing him and
+put him on the day-herd to get healed up.
+
+There was very little left of the lily-white Mr. Bowles when the ordeal
+came to an end. His hands that had been so trim and slender were swelled
+up too big for his gloves. The outside was raw with sunburn and
+wind-chap and the inside was blistered and rope-worn. His lips had
+cracked wide open from the dry north wind, and his face was beginning to
+peel like a snake. Also his arms had been nearly jerked from the sockets
+by a horse he had tried to hold, and a calf had kicked him in the leg
+while he was trying to bulldog it at the branding. Like the cowboy in
+the ballad, "he was busted from his somber to his heel," but he had
+managed to come through alive. And now, as a reward for his prowess and
+daring, he was set to mind the day-herd.
+
+Grass was short in the Bat Wing pastures, and every day brought in new
+herds of dogies to be held for the April shipping; so, just to keep all
+hands busy and save a little feed, Henry Lee turned his gentle cattle
+out on to the prairie to rustle what provender they could. Now riding
+day-herd is not supposed to be a very high-grade or desirable
+occupation, and good punchers have been known to quit a boss who put
+them at it; but Bowles was led to believe that it was a post of honor.
+Awful stories of cowboys who had gone to sleep on guard were told by the
+fire at night, and the danger from sudden stampedes was played up to the
+skies. The monotony of the job was admitted, but the responsibility was
+great. So Bowles accepted the position gladly, and the round-up went on
+unimpeded.
+
+Lolling in the shade of his horse or sitting with his back to the dry
+wind, Bowles watched them "pluck the blossoms" while he doctored his
+numerous wounds, meanwhile falling into lovelorn reveries on the subject
+of Dixie Lee. It was humiliating, in a way, to be reduced to the ranks;
+to be compelled to wait on her pleasure, and court her from afar; but
+something told him that Dixie thought of him even though she passed him
+by; and just to be one of her lovers, to be allowed to worship with the
+rest--that was enough to bear him up and give him courage to wait. And
+either in the end she would speak to him and take him back into her
+life, or he would depart in silence to hide from her laughing eyes. The
+game of love was new to Bowles and he knew little of its stealth and
+wiles; just to be near her was all he knew, and the future must solve
+the rest. So, like a questing knight, nursing his hurts after his first
+combat, he sat out on the boundless prairie and communed with his own
+sad heart.
+
+Across the herd from him a battered old-time cowboy sat, crooked-legged,
+on his horse. On the day before a bronk had thrown him by treachery and
+kicked him as he dragged--even turned around and jumped on him and
+stamped him in the face. A great bruise, red and raw, ran up from his
+brows to his bald-spot where the iron shoe had struck; but still the
+old-timer was content.
+
+"A cowboy don't need no haid above his eyebrows, nohow," he had said.
+"Jest think if he had hit me on the jaw!" Yes, indeed, but what if he
+had hit him in the temple or trampled him to death! Or suppose, just for
+instance, that Mr. Bowles, of New York, had been on the bronk instead of
+Uncle Joe, the veteran--would he have had sense enough to get his foot
+out of the stirrup? That was the trouble with standing day-herd--it gave
+the imagination a chance to work.
+
+Bowles looked out over the plain again and noticed every little
+thing--the rattleweed, planted so regularly on the sandy flat; the
+dogholes, each with its high-topped mound to keep out the rain and
+floods; the black line of mesquite brush against the distant hills; the
+band of yuccas along their flanks; and then the soft, moulded summits,
+now green, now yellow, now creamy white as shrubs and bushes and bunch
+grass caught the light. It was very beautiful, but lonely. Yes, it
+lacked color--a vigorous girlish figure in the foreground to give it the
+last poetic touch.
+
+The only men who can stand the monotony of day-herding are those who are
+not overburdened with brains, and so have the ability to turn off the
+thinking-machine entirely until they need it again. Smoking helps, and
+singing long-drawn songs; but Bowles turned back to Wordsworth, the poet
+of nature. Stray snatches of poems and sonnets rose in his mind, and he
+tried to piece out the rest; then he gazed at the quivering mirage, the
+plain, the straying cattle, and wondered how Wordsworth would see it. He
+was engaged in this peaceful occupation when, on the second day, he
+noted a moving figure, far away; dreamily he watched it as it emerged
+from the barbed-wire lanes of the nesters, and then, like a flash, the
+words of Brigham came back to him: "I knowed her four miles away by
+section lines." It was Dixie Lee, and she was coming his way!
+
+There were three other worthless cowboys like himself on the day-herd,
+and they had seen her already. Like Brigham, they knew her by the way
+she rode, miles and miles away. Steadily she pounded along, keeping the
+rangy bay at an even lope, and then she turned toward the ranch. The
+long wire fence of the horse pasture had thrown her from her course, but
+now she was on the barren prairie and could skirt the north fence home.
+A series of muttered comments marked this sudden turn to the west, and
+the tall, cigarette-smoking youth who had been rubbing the sleep from
+his eyes lopped down beneath his salt-bush again. But he had returned to
+Morpheus too soon, for almost immediately after he had laid his hat over
+his eyes the distant rider changed her course, and the boys held up
+their hands for silence. Dixie Lee was going to make them a visit, after
+all, and they would let her catch him asleep.
+
+Swiftly the tireless bay came loping across the flats, winding in and
+out to dodge the dog towns, and soon the queen of the cowboys was up to
+the edge of the herd.
+
+"Hello, Uncle Joe!" she hailed, riding over toward the old-timer. "How's
+your head?"
+
+"All right, Miss Dix," replied the puncher amiably. "Cain't hurt a
+cowboy in the haid, you know."
+
+"No, but you can spoil his looks, Uncle," retorted Dixie May playfully.
+"You want to remember that--I heard a lady down here inquiring for you
+mighty special. What's the matter with Slim over there?"
+
+A whoop went up at this, and the sleeper sat up guiltily.
+
+"Oh, him?" queried Uncle Joe, speaking loud so that all could hear.
+"W'y, kinder overcome by the heat, I reckon. He gits took that way every
+once in a while."
+
+"Ever since he begin settin' up with that nester girl!" put in the other
+day-herder, with a guffaw; and Dixie May began to chuckle with laughter
+as she rode around the herd.
+
+"Well, it's too bad about him," she called back. "I'll have to go over
+there and see if he's likely to die."
+
+It took her but a moment to diagnose the sad case of Slim, and then the
+other cowboy had his call from the consulting physician. Bowles was the
+last man on the circuit, but he did not step out and bow. He did not
+expect a visit--and, besides, something told him she did not approve of
+it. So he stood quietly by his horse, and only his eyes followed her as
+she bore down on him, her head turned back to fling some gay retort and
+her horse falling into his stride. She rode to the right of him, and as
+she faced about and met his glance she stared, as if surprised.
+
+"Why, hello there, cowboy!" she challenged bluntly; and then, with a
+smile on her face, she went galloping on toward the ranch.
+
+Nobody heard her speak but Bowles; and he, poor, unsophisticated man,
+was more puzzled than enlightened by her remarks. Of one thing he was
+sure--she had lowered her voice on purpose, and her words were for him
+alone. But her smile--was it one of derision, or a token of forgiveness
+and regard? And her secret greeting--was it an accident, or was she
+ashamed of his friendship? Perhaps she had weighty reasons for keeping
+their acquaintance unknown. Somehow, that thought appealed to him above
+the rest. Perhaps she knew more than he did of the dangers which
+surrounded him--from Hardy Atkins, or some other jealous suitor, to whom
+a single smile for him might be the signal for reprisal. They
+might--why, there were a thousand things they might do if they knew what
+was in his heart! Bowles ran it all over in his mind: her sudden turning
+upon him as they approached the Chula Vista hotel; her haughty
+repudiation of him when he met her at the big house; and now this secret
+greeting, so carelessly given, yet so fraught with hidden meaning.
+
+"Why, hello there, cowboy!" she had said. And she appeared surprised, as
+if she had not expected to see him in the guise of an ordinary puncher.
+She had smiled, too; but--well, a little too broadly. Of course, out in
+the West--but, even then, it was a little broad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CONEY ISLAND
+
+
+It is wonderful how much a smile, or even a grin, will do for a
+disconsolate lover. Bowles woke suddenly to the beauties of nature and
+the wild joy of living; and that evening, instead of dropping into his
+blankets like a dead man, he tarried by the fire. A chill wind swept in
+from the frigid north, and the smoke guttered and flurried from the
+burning logs; but the cowboys sat about in their shirt-sleeves and
+blinked patiently when they caught the smoke. Inside the bunk-house the
+noise of the perpetual pitch game told where battles were being lost and
+won, a secret understanding that every game was worth a quarter on
+pay-day being the contributing cause for the excitement, since Henry Lee
+allowed no gambling among his punchers. But outside everybody was either
+broke or in the hole, and so there was nothing but peace and amity and
+long-winded arguments.
+
+The talk for the moment was centered upon "ring-tail" in horses, a
+subject upon which Brigham Clark claimed to be an authority, although
+Bowles had never even heard of it before.
+
+"No, sir," asserted Brigham, addressing the company at large; "you show
+me a ring-tailed hawse, and I'll show you a hawse with weak kidneys,
+every time. Now, I don't say how he gits them weak kidneys,
+y'understand; he may git 'em from bein' rode too young, the way Uncle
+Joe claims; or he may git 'em from drinkin' bad water, like folks; or he
+may jest be born that way. But that ain't the point--when you take a
+nice young hawse and turn him up a hill, and he quits and goes to
+ringin' his tail around--that hawse is weak, I say, or he wouldn't quit.
+A ring-tailed hawse is a weak hawse, and you might jest as well give 'im
+to the kids to play with--he'll never be no good fer a cow-pony."
+
+Coming as this did at the end of a long and technical argument, it was
+allowed to pass by the company. A quiet fell, and three or four men to
+leeward got up to avoid the smoke; but all the time Brigham Clark sat on
+the box he had captured, his big black hat pushed back on his head, his
+hand held out to the fire, and his shrewd eyes twinkling as he gazed
+down into the flames. Then he shook with silent laughter, and they knew
+he was off on another one.
+
+"Heh, heh, heh!" he chuckled. "Speakin' of ring-tails reminds me of a
+ring-tailed monkey I used to have to take care of when I was on the
+road. He was the orneriest little brat you ever see in yore life--a
+little, spider-legged proposition, with a long, limber tail, and big
+eyes that he'd always be winkin' and a-blinkin' while he was figurin'
+out some new kind of devilment--and all the time he'd be sneezin' and
+cuddlin' and snugglin' up ag'inst you like he loved you more'n his
+mammy. The boss's wife kept the little snifter fer company-like, and
+she'd pet and coddle and talk foolish to 'im until the boss would nigh
+have a fit. Jest like when a woman keeps a lap-dog, I reckon--kinder
+makes a man want to kill 'im, to keep her from muchin' 'im all the time.
+
+"Well, this here lady was shore foolish about that monkey, and every
+mornin' when we were in a town I had to take 'im out fer a walk.
+Leastways, somebody had to do it; and rather than not see the town at
+all I'd take him along under my arm. If I'd had a hand-organ I'd shore
+made a lot of money that trip--but I was thinkin' about the time I took
+the ring out of his tail. Every time we'd come to a tree, or a
+fire-escape, or something like that, the little devil would begin to
+hook up at it with his tail; and this time I'm speakin' of we was goin'
+through a little park, and I'm a son-of-a-gun if he didn't git away on
+me. Jest reached out with his tail where it was hangin' down behind, and
+grabbed a limb, and slipped the collar on me.
+
+"Yes, sir! And then he begun doin' circus stunts through them trees.
+First he'd climb up one, and then another, and then he hooked on to a
+fire-escape, and I chased him clean over a house. Policeman came along
+and wanted to arrest me, but I give 'im a talk and kept travelin',
+because I knew if I didn't ketch that monkey I didn't need to go back to
+the tent. Well, I chased him till my tongue hung out, but about the time
+I'd reach out to ketch 'im he'd swing off with his tail and git into the
+next tree; so I went over to a fruit store and tried to ketch 'im with
+bananas. Last chance I had, and I was gittin' pretty mad. All the kids
+was there to tease me, the policeman was tellin' me to move on--and that
+cussed monkey kept hangin' down by his tail and makin' faces at me,
+until, by grab, I reached down and took up a rock.
+
+"'Now, hyer,' I says, holdin' up the banana, 'you'd better come down
+before I git hot and soak you with this,' and I showed him the size of
+that pavin' stone.
+
+"'Etchee-etchee-etchee!' he says, swingin' up for a limb; and then I let
+'im have it. They wasn't any ring in his tail when he come down, believe
+me; and when I showed the remains to the missus she like to tore my hair
+out. Boss he fired me--mad as the devil--then when she wasn't lookin' he
+slipped me a twenty, and told me to go back to Coney. There was a happy
+man, fellers, but he had to let on different--married, you know. So I
+took the twenty and went back to old Coney, where they shoot the chutes
+and loop the loops, and any man that's got a dime is as rich as John G.
+Rockefeller. Big doin's back there, fellers--you don't know what you're
+missin'."
+
+An abashed silence followed this remark, calculated as it was to reduce
+his hearers to a proper state of humility; and then, to add to its
+effectiveness, the Odysseus of the cow camps turned to Bowles.
+
+"Ain't that so, stranger?" he said; and Bowles thought he detected a
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" he replied. "There's no place in the world like Coney
+Island. Changing very rapidly, too. Have you been there lately? That
+Dreamland is wonderful, isn't it? And Luna Park----"
+
+"Hah!" exclaimed Brigham, slapping his leg. "That's the place! Loony
+Park! Ain't that the craziest place you ever see? Everything
+upside-down, topsy-turvy--guess I never told you boys about that. Didn't
+dare to, by grab--not till this gentleman come along to back me up!"
+
+He glanced at Bowles significantly and waited for the questions.
+
+"What does she look like, Brig?" inquired Bar Seven, the stray man.
+"Pretty fancy, eh?"
+
+"Fancy!" repeated Brigham, with royal insolence. "Well, believe me,
+goin' through this Loony Park would make Tucson look like a cow camp!
+She's shore elegant--silver and gold, and big barroom looking-glasses
+everywhere--only everything is upside-down. You go into the house
+through the chimney, walk around on the ceilin' and there's all the
+tables and chairs stuck up on the top. Big chandeliers standin' straight
+up from the floor, and all the pictures hangin' wrong side to on the
+walls. Stairs is all built backwards, and when you're half way up, if
+you look like a Rube, they'll straighten 'em out like a flat board and
+shoot you into the attic. Talk about crazy--w'y, they's been a feller
+walked through this Loony Park and never knowed straight up afterwards.
+It's shore wonderful, ain't it, pardner?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" answered Bowles suavely; and, seeing that he could be
+relied upon, Brigham Clark cut loose with another one.
+
+"Ain't that so, mister?" he inquired at the end; and Bowles, who saw a
+chance for revenge, assured the gawking cowboys that it was. These were
+the boys who had been gloating over him for a week and more, but now it
+was his turn.
+
+"Yes, indeed," he replied, with a blase, worldly-wise air; "quite a
+common occurrence, I'm sure."
+
+At this the ready Brigham took fresh courage, and his little eyes
+twinkled with mischief.
+
+"Friend," he said, "if it's none of my business, of course you'll let me
+know, but you've been around a little, haven't you? Seen the world,
+mebbe? Well now, what's the wonderfulest thing you ever see?"
+
+A flush of pleasure mantled Bowles' sunburned face, for it was the first
+time he had been addressed as man to man since he struck the Bat Wing;
+but he did not lose the point--Brigham had a bigger story to bring out
+and he was waiting for a lead.
+
+"Well," he said, "I _have_ seen a good many wonderful exhibitions, but
+the one that I think of at this moment as the most striking was Selim,
+the diving horse. You remember him, I guess--out at Coney Island. He was
+a beautiful horse, wasn't he? Snowy white, with a long, flowing mane,
+and intelligent as a human. He mounted to a platform forty-five feet
+high and leaped off into a pool of water. That was the most wonderful
+thing I ever saw, because he did it all by himself--climbed up to the
+platform, stepped out to the diving-place, and jumped off when his
+master said the word. Yes, that was certainly wonderful."
+
+"You bet!" assented Brig, regarding him with admiring eyes; but the
+others were not so easily satisfied. That was one thing they claimed to
+be up on--horses--and they looked the solemn stranger over dubiously.
+
+"How high did you say that platform was?" inquired Uncle Joe cautiously.
+"Forty-five--well, that was shore high. I cain't hardly git my hawse to
+cross the crick."
+
+"How deep was that pool?" spoke up Bar Seven, the stray man. "Ten foot?
+Huh! Say, boys, this reminds me of that divin' story of Brig's!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter with that divin' story of mine?" demanded
+Brigham orgulously. "You're behind the times, Bar Seven. While you was
+on yore way this gentleman come into camp, and he's seen that done
+himself. What do you know about it, anyhow--spent all yore life punchin'
+cows and eatin' sand--what do you know about divin', anyhow?"
+
+"Well, they's one thing I do know," retorted Bar Seven, "and that's
+hawses. I been with hawses all my life, and you cain't tell me about no
+hawse divin'--stands to reason he'd hit the bottom and break his neck,
+anyway!"
+
+"Perhaps I would better explain," broke in Bowles politely. "When the
+horse leaves the platform he slides down an inclined chute, below which
+is hung a heavily padded board. As the horse slips off he naturally
+kicks and struggles, and his feet, flying out behind, strike the padded
+board so that, while he leaps off headforemost, he rights himself in the
+air and falls into the pool feet first. Of course, forty-five feet is
+quite a distance, but he probably never goes to the bottom at all."
+
+"Well, that's all right," admitted Bar Seven. "I don't know about
+that--but tell me this, stranger: How does the man git that hawse to
+climb up there and take the jump? Tell me that, and I'll believe
+anything!"
+
+"Why, certainly," said Bowles. "At the time of which I speak, a young
+girl rode on his back when he made the plunge--just to make it more
+exciting, you know--but I watched the man quite closely, and really it
+was very interesting. First the girl went up the long incline, which had
+a railing and was provided with cleats, of course. Then the trainer
+brought Selim out and gave him a handful of sugar from his pocket,
+rubbing his head and talking to him while he was begging for more, until
+he had him up to the chute. There he stripped the halter off and spoke
+to him, and the horse started up by himself, he was so eager for the
+reward. At the top the girl mounted him and turned him down the
+diving-chute; and, don't you know, the first thing he did when he got to
+land was to trot back and get his sugar!"
+
+"Oh, sugar!" cried Bar Seven, in disgust; but somehow the
+circumstantiality of the narrative seemed to carry conviction with the
+others, and he found himself alone.
+
+"What breed of hawse was that?" inquired Uncle Joe, after a pause.
+
+"A pure-blooded Arabian," answered Bowles; "supposed to be the most
+intelligent horses in the world. The Arabians, you know, keep their
+horses about their tents and raise them as if they were children,
+teaching them to understand the human voice and to answer like a dog."
+
+"W'y, sure!" broke in Brigham, artfully taking the lead again. "Don't
+you fellers remember that story in the school book about Ali Ben Hassan,
+or whatever his name was, that was wounded in a battle and his hawse
+picked him up by his belt and packed him back to his tent? I tell you,
+them A-rabs are a pretty smooth bunch of _hombres_. They not only savvy
+hawses from the ground up but they're the finest jugglers and
+strong-armed men that the world has ever seen. I remember back at Coney
+they was three brothers that did sech tricks you couldn't hardly believe
+it.
+
+"They was called the Hassan brothers--all A-rabs is either named Hassan
+or A-li--and the oldest one was a balancer. That feller could balance a
+peacock feather on his nose--throw a flip-flap clean over it, and come
+up with it still on his nose--but that was jest fer a starter. His big
+stunt was balancin' clay pipes. He'd take a hundred and forty-four
+long-handled pipes, balance 'em one on top of the other, and then skip
+up to the top and set there while he took a smoke."
+
+"What! One on top of the other?" demanded Bar Seven incredulously.
+
+"Aw, no, you bone head!" replied Brigham impatiently. "What d'ye
+think--would he pile 'em up a hundred foot high? He made 'em into a kind
+of pyramid-like--but he was nothin' to his younger brother. That feller
+was a rope-sharp. You punchers think you can twirl the rope some, but
+you're back in the calf corral alongside of him. He could throw a loop
+out on the floor, and send it quilin' around like a snake, hoppin' over
+chairs and tables like a trained dog, and then have it come back and
+hog-tie 'im at one lick, so that an expert couldn't unfasten the knots
+in half an hour. But that was jest good rope work with him; his big play
+come at the end when he tied a twenty-pound weight at the end of it and
+began to swing it round. By Joe, that was great! And then, right at the
+end, when he pulled his big stuff, he heaved that weight forty foot into
+the air, clum up the rope and set down on top of it smokin' his cigar!
+Now, by grab, can you beat that?"
+
+"Kin we beat it?" echoed Bar Seven and the bunch. "Kin we believe
+it--that's the point!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter with it?" demanded Brigham irritably. "Seems
+like every time I tell you cotton-pickers anythin' you up an' call me a
+liar. What's the matter, anyway?"
+
+"What's the matter?" yelled Bar Seven, raising his voice above the rest.
+"W'y, you ignorant devil, how could the feller set on the weight when it
+was only throwed up in the air?"
+
+A chorus of other demands followed, but Brigham only sat on his box,
+smiling easily.
+
+"Say, what do you take me for?" he inquired, gazing about him pityingly.
+"If I knowed how that A-rab did that rope-work, d'ye think I'd be
+punchin' cows? Not fer me--I'd be drawin' a thousand dollars a week back
+at Coney. Of co'se I can't say how it was done--no more than you
+can--but that's what makes the show! If the people knowed, they wouldn't
+come no more! Ain't that so, pardner?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles.
+
+"W'y sure!" went on Brigham. "Anybody that knows anythin' about the show
+business knows that. No matter how good a stunt is, it's got to be
+mysterious or the people won't pay to see it. Either that, or it's got
+to be feats of strength and darin'. Now this youngest Hassan brother was
+a strong-armed man. He'd wrap a piece of chain around his arm, tighten
+up his muscle and _pop!_ it'd break right square in two. Same thing with
+his chest--he'd wrap a loggin' chain around his breast, suck in his
+breast, and snap it like a thread. You've seen fellers like that,
+haven't you?"
+
+"Sure!" said Bowles.
+
+"Yes--all right!" continued Brigham apologetically. "Seems like the
+simplest thing I tell these fellers some rabbit-twister from Texas up
+and contradicts me. Well, this youngest brother had a pretty good stunt
+to end up with--nothin' flashy, of co'se, but pretty good fer a kid. He
+was powerful strong in the right arm and he'd hold it out like
+this"--Brigham held out his brawny arm--"and then he'd muscle up, real
+slow-like, and then, by grab, he'd raise himself right up, and come down
+over, and set right down on that thumb!"
+
+He elevated his thumb as he spoke, and the cowboys gazed at it as if
+hypnotized. Then Bar Seven rose up slowly and, walking over to the
+defenseless Brigham, mashed his hat down over his eyes at a single blow.
+
+"Brig," he said, his voice trembling with conviction, "you're a
+dad-burned liar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PROMOTED
+
+
+There was quite a little excitement in the bunk-house that night, and
+when it was at its height Brigham Clark came tottering out with his bed.
+
+"Say, where's that friend of mine--that Coney Island feller?" he
+inquired, addressing the recumbent forms of men as he scouted along the
+wagon-shed. "I'm skeered to sleep in the same house with them
+cotton-pickers and old Bar Seven--they might rise up in the night and
+throw me into the hawse-trough. Huh? Oh, that's him over there, hey?
+Well, so long, fellers--kinder cold out hyer, ain't it? But I cain't
+sleep in that bunk-house no more--them fellers, they doubt my veracity!"
+
+He was still chuckling with subdued laughter as he dropped his bed down
+in a far corner beside Bowles; but nothing was said until he had spread
+his "tarp" and blankets and crept in out of the cold. Then he laughed
+again, quivering until the earth seemed to shake with his contagious
+merriment.
+
+"Say, pardner," he said, "you're all right. We capped 'em in on that
+proper, and no mistake. Did you see old Bar Seven's jaw drop when he saw
+how he was bit? I'll have that on him for many a long day now, and it'll
+shore cost him the drinks when we git to town next month. Gittin' too
+lively for me over in the bunk-house, so I thought I'd come out here
+with you."
+
+"Sure!" responded Bowles, who had secretly been lonely for company.
+"It's rather cold out here, but the air is better."
+
+"Yes--and the company," added Brigham meaningly. "Ain't these Texicans
+the ignorantest bunch? W'y, them fellers don't know _nothin'_ till they
+see you laugh! I could've got away with that strong-arm business if I
+could've kept my face straight, but old Bar Seven was too many fer me--I
+jest had to snicker or I'd bust! Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!"
+
+"There was one thing which kind of puzzled me, though," observed Bowles.
+"Would you mind telling me where you got that absurd idea of the three
+Hassan brothers?"
+
+"W'y, sure not," giggled Brigham, creeping closer and lowering his
+voice. "Don't tell anybody, but I got it off a drummer in the
+smokin'-car when I was comin' back from the Fair in Phoenix. The way
+he told it, there was an Englishman and a Frenchman and an Irishman
+talkin' together, each one braggin' about his own country; and the
+Englishman began it by tellin' about his younger brother, who wasn't
+nothin' hardly in England but could do that first stunt with the clay
+pipes. Then the Frenchman told about his brother, who wasn't nothin' for
+a balancer but was pretty good at rope-work; and the Irishman, in order
+to trump 'em right, he tells about his youngest brother that was strong
+in the arms. Say, that shore knocked the persimmon, didn't it? Them
+fellers was like the man that come out of Loony Park--they didn't know
+straight-up! Their eyes was stickin' out so you could rope 'em with a
+grape-vine, but they didn't dare to peep. Been called down too often.
+But say, pardner, on the dead, how about that divin' hawse?"
+
+"Why--er--what do you mean?" asked Bowles.
+
+"Well, did he shore enough do that, or was you jest stringin' 'em?"
+
+"Why, yes, certainly he did! Haven't you ever heard about Selim, the
+diving horse? How long ago was it that you were at Coney Island?"
+
+"Who--me?" inquired Brigham. "Never was there," he replied with engaging
+frankness; "never been outside the Territory. Say, you didn't think I'd
+shore been there, did ye?" he questioned eagerly.
+
+"I certainly did," replied Bowles. "Of course, I knew that you were
+drawing the long bow this evening--but how did you get all this
+information if you've never been there?"
+
+"Heh, heh, heh!" chuckled Brigham, rolling over on his bed. "Say, this
+is pretty good, by grab! Feller comes clear out hyer from New York, and
+I take him in, too! W'y, pardner, I was with a carnival company down at
+the Territorial Fair last fall, and that was the nearest I ever got to
+Coney; but they was a feller there--the ballyhoo man for Go-Go, the wild
+boy--and he was always tellin' me about Coney, until I knowed it like a
+book. Yes, sir, I jest camped right down and listened to that spieler;
+and he was shore glad to talk. Talkin' was his business, and he'd been
+at it so long he'd got the habit--couldn't help it--all he needed was
+some feller to listen to 'im. But all he'd talk about was Coney Island.
+Been there for years and didn't know nothin' else--and he shore filled
+me up right. Learned me all his spiels and everythin', and when I come
+back from winterin' in that Phoenix country I tole 'em I was back from
+New York. New York and the Great White Way--and Coney.
+
+"But you shore strengthened my hand immensely, pardner, the way you
+he'ped out to-night. Now, we want to stand pat on this--don't tip me off
+to 'em--and pretty soon I'll have 'em all spraddled out ag'in. Hardy
+Atkins and that bunch, they make too much noise--they won't let me talk
+at all--but you watch me go after Bar Seven and these stray men. I'll
+tell ye--you put me wise to a whole lot more stuff, and I'll frame up
+another come-on. How's that now?"
+
+"All right," agreed Bowles, yawning sleepily. "Good-night!"
+
+He dropped back into his blankets and covered up his head; but Brigham
+failed to take the hint.
+
+"Got any more divin' stories?" he asked, with gentle insistence. "They
+bite on them fine. Or a hawse story! A cowboy thinks he knows all about
+hawses. Go ahead and give me one now, so I can spring it on 'em in the
+mornin'--I got to have somethin' to come back at 'em with. They're
+always throwin' it into me about being a Mormon--I jest wanter show 'em
+that I've got the goods. Go ahead now--tell me somethin'!"
+
+"All right," said Bowles, coming out from under his blankets; "but,
+really, I'm awfully sleepy!"
+
+"Yeah; you'll git over that after you've been punchin' cows a while,"
+observed Brigham sagely. "I'm on the wrangle again, but it don't worry
+me none. Cowboy's got no right to sleep, nohow. Let 'im trade his bed
+for a lantern--that's what they all say--but don't fergit that divin'
+story, pardner. Didn't you never see no more divin' stunts--in New York
+or somewhere?"
+
+"Why, yes," answered Bowles, brightening up; "that reminds me--there's
+the Hippodrome!"
+
+"Aha!" breathed Brigham. "What's it like?"
+
+"Why, the Hippodrome," continued Bowles, "is an immense playhouse right
+in the heart of New York that's given over entirely to spectacles. It
+has a stage large enough to accommodate a thousand people, and a great
+lake out in front that is big enough to float a fleet of boats; and
+every year they put on some new spectacle. One year it will be the
+battle of Manila Bay, for instance, with ships and men and cannons, and
+a great shipwreck scene right there in the lake, with people falling
+overboard and getting drowned--and the peculiar thing is that when a
+boatload of people fall into that lake they never come up again. It's
+just the same as if they were drowned."
+
+"Aw, say," broke in Brigham, "you're givin' me a fill, ain't you?"
+
+"No," protested Bowles warmly; "I'm telling you the truth. Why, I saw
+the most glorious spectacle there one night. It represented the tempting
+of some young prince by Cleopatra, the beautiful Egyptian queen. There
+were six hundred women in the play, and as they marched and
+countermarched across the stage the lights would throw soft colors about
+them, and then as they danced the colors would change, until the whole
+place looked like fairyland. Then they would swing up into the air on
+invisible wires and hover about like butterflies--there would be a flash
+and all would have wings--and then they would disappear again and come
+out dressed in armor like Amazons. And in the last act, when the prince
+had sent them away, they marched down the broad stone steps that lead
+into the lake, four abreast, and without taking a deep breath, or
+showing any concern whatever, they just walked right into that deep
+water and disappeared. Never came up again. Gone, the whole six hundred
+of them!"
+
+"Gone!" echoed Brigham in amazement. "Where to? Where'd they go to?"
+
+"Under the water--that's all I know."
+
+"Gee, what a lie!" exclaimed Brigham, rising up in bed. "By jicks,
+pardner, I shore have to take off my hat to you--you got a wonderful
+imagination!"
+
+"No, indeed!" protested Bowles. "It's every word of it true. This
+Hippodrome was designed by the same man who built Luna Park, and
+invented the loop the loop, and shoot the chutes, and all those other
+wonderful things. I was reading an article about that Hippodrome lake
+and it seems he built some kind of a great metal hood down under the
+water and filled it with compressed air of just the right pressure to
+displace the water. All the details are held secret, and the very people
+who use it are kept in ignorance, but as near as can be found out the
+performers dive right down under that hood and from there they are taken
+off through underground passages and carried back to their
+dressing-rooms. Several people were drowned while they were
+experimenting with it, but now it's perfectly safe; I don't suppose
+those women mind it at all."
+
+"No!" cried Brigham, still struggling with his emotions. "Is it as easy
+as that? But say," he whispered, as the magnitude of the story came over
+him, "jest wait till I get this off on the cowboys--I'll have me a
+reputation like old Tom Pepper, or Windy Bill up on the J.F.! You don't
+want to pull it yoreself, do you? Well, jest give me the details, then,
+and I'll depend on you to make my hand good when they come back for the
+explanation. But, by grab, if it's anythin' like what you say, I'm shore
+goin' to save my money and drag it fer old New York!"
+
+"Yes, indeed," murmured Bowles, cuddling down into his bed; "I'm sure
+you'd enjoy it."
+
+He fell to breathing deeply immediately, feigning a dreamless slumber,
+and when Brigham asked his next question Bowles was lost to the world.
+The cowboy's night was all too short for him, ending as it did at
+four-thirty in the morning, and not even a consideration for Brigham's
+future career could fight off the demands of sleep. Yet hardly had he
+closed his eyes--or so it seemed--when Gloomy Gus flashed his lantern in
+his face and then turned to the ambitious Brigham.
+
+"Git up, Brig!" he rasped. "It's almost day! Wranglers!"
+
+"Oh, my Lord!" moaned Brigham, turning to hide his face, but the
+round-up cook was inexorable and at last he had his way. Then as the
+wranglers clumped away to saddle their night-horses the dishpan clanged
+out its brazen summons and one by one the cowboys stirred and rose. Last
+of all rose Bat Wing Bowles, for his head was heavy with sleep; but a
+pint of the cook's hot coffee brought him back to life again, and he was
+ready for another day.
+
+Shrill yells rose from the far corner of the horse pasture; there was a
+rumble of feet, a din of hoofbeats growing nearer, and then with a noise
+like thunder the remuda poured into the corral. A scamper of ponies and
+the high-pitched curses of the riders told where the outlaws were being
+turned back from a break; and then the bars went up and the wranglers
+ran shivering to the fire.
+
+"Pore old Brig!" observed Bar Seven with exaggerated concern. "He was up
+all night!"
+
+"What's the matter?" inquired another. "Feet hurt 'im?"
+
+"No," said Bar Seven sadly; "it was his haid!"
+
+Brigham looked up from his cup of coffee and said nothing. Then, seeing
+many furtive eyes upon him, he laughed shortly, and filled his cup
+again.
+
+"Yore _eyes_ look kinder bad, Seven," he said. "Must've kinder strained
+'em last night."
+
+"Nope," answered Bar Seven, upon whom the allusion was not lost; and
+with this delicate passage at arms the subject of big stories was
+dropped. Henry Lee came down, there was a call for horses, and in the
+turmoil of roping and mounting the matter was forgotten. Brigham had
+scored a victory and he was satisfied, while the stray men were biding
+their time. So the marvels of the Hippodrome were held in reserve, and
+the round-up supplied the excitement.
+
+As the riding of bronks progressed, the accidents that go with such work
+increased. Almost every morning saw its loose horse racing across the
+flats, and the number of receptive candidates for the job of day-herding
+was swelled by the battle-scarred victims. Then fate stepped in, the
+scene was changed, and Bowles found himself a man again.
+
+"Bowles," said Henry Lee, as he lingered by the fire, "can you drive a
+team?"
+
+Visions of a flunky's job driving the bed-wagon rose instantly in his
+mind; but Bowles had been trained to truth-telling and he admitted that
+he could.
+
+"Ever drive a wild team?" continued Lee, with a touch of severity.
+
+"Well--no," answered Bowles. "I've driven spirited horses, such as we
+have in the East, but----"
+
+"Think you could drive the grays to Chula Vista and back?"
+
+"Oh, the grays!" cried Bowles, a sudden smile wreathing his countenance
+as he thought of that spirited pair. "Why, yes; I'm sure I could!"
+
+"Oh," commented Henry Lee, as if he had his doubts; but after a quick
+glance at the self-sufficient youth he seemed to make up his mind.
+"Well," he said, "I'll get Hardy to hook 'em up--Mrs. Lee wants you to
+take her to town."
+
+"Certainly," responded Bowles, turning suddenly sober. "I'll be very
+careful indeed."
+
+"Yes," said the cattleman; "and if you can't drive, I want you to say so
+now."
+
+"I've driven in the horse shows, Mr. Lee," answered Bowles. "You can
+judge for yourself."
+
+"Oh, you have, have you?" And the keen gray eyes of Henry Lee seemed to
+add: "Then what are you doing out here?" But all he said was: "Very
+well."
+
+Half an hour later, with his gloved hands well out to the front, and the
+whip in his right for emergencies, Bowles went racing southward behind
+the grays; while Mrs. Lee, her face muffled against the wind, was
+wondering at his skill. As a cowboy, Mr. Bowles had been a
+laughing-stock, but now he displayed all the courage and control of a
+Western stage-driver, with some of the style of a coachman thrown in.
+
+"How well you drive, Mr. Bowles!" she ventured, after the grays had had
+their first dash. "I was afraid I shouldn't be able to go to town until
+after the round-up--Mr. Atkins is so busy, you know."
+
+Bowles bowed and smiled grimly. It had been Hardy Atkins' boast that he
+alone was capable of handling the grays, and as he was harnessing them
+up that gentleman had seen fit to criticize the arrangements, only to be
+rebuked by Henry Lee.
+
+"You know Mr. Lee depends so much on Hardy," continued Mrs. Lee, "and he
+needs him so on the circle that I disliked very much to ask for him--but
+something you said the other night about stage-coaching made me think
+that perhaps you could drive. Of course, any of the boys _could_ drive,
+but--well, for some reason or other, I can never get them to talk to me;
+and to ride forty miles with a man who is too embarrassed to talk, and
+who hates you because he can't chew tobacco--that isn't so
+pleasant--now, is it?"
+
+"Why, no, I presume not," agreed Bowles. "You know, I'm recently from
+the East, and perhaps that's why I notice it, but these Western men seem
+very difficult to get acquainted with. Of course I'm a greenhorn and all
+that, and I suppose they haven't much respect for me as a cowboy, but
+it's such a peculiar thing--no one will speak to me directly. Even when
+they make fun of me, they keep it among themselves. Brigham Clark is the
+only one who gives me any degree of friendship--and, that reminds me, I
+must get him some tobacco in town."
+
+"Yes, I know what you mean," said Mrs. Lee. "I guess I do! Think of
+living out here for thirty years, Mr. Bowles, and having them still hold
+aloof. With Dixie, now, it is different. She was born here, and in a way
+she speaks their language. I have done my best, to be sure, to keep her
+diction pure--and Henry even has given up all his old, careless ways of
+speaking in order to do his part; but, somehow, she has learned the
+vernacular from these cowboys, and in spite of all I can say she will
+persist in using it. It was only yesterday that I overheard her say to
+Hardy: 'Yes, I can ride ary hawse in the pen!' And she says 'You-all'
+like a regular Texan. Of course, that is Southern too--and I have known
+some very cultivated Texans--but, oh, it makes me feel so bad that my
+daughter should fall into these careless ways! I have been in Arizona
+nearly thirty years now, and it has meant the loss of a great deal to me
+in many ways; but there was one thing I would not give up, Mr. Bowles--I
+would not give up my educated speech!"
+
+She ended with some emotion, and Bowles glanced at her curiously, but he
+made no carping comments. When a lady has sacrificed so much to preserve
+the language of her fathers, it would be a poor return indeed to give
+her aught but praise--and yet he could sense it dimly that she had paid
+a fearful price. Personally, he was beginning to admire the direct
+speech of Dixie May, even to the extent of dropping some of his more
+obvious Eastern variants; but to the mother he hid the leanings of his
+heart.
+
+"Your accent is certainly very pure," he said. "Really, I have never
+heard more perfect English--except, perhaps, from some highly educated
+foreigner. Our tendency to lapse into the vernacular lays us all open to
+criticism, of course. But don't you find, Mrs. Lee, that your Eastern
+speech is a bar, in a way, to the closest relations with your neighbors?
+I know with me it has been that way, and I am already trying to adopt
+the Western idiom as far as possible. Why, really, when I first came,
+they ridiculed me so for saying 'Beg pardon' that I doubt if I shall
+ever use the expression again. And I am having such a struggle to say
+'calves'--not 'cahves,' you know, but 'calves'! It is all right to say
+'brahnding cahves' back in New York, but out here it is so frightfully
+conspicuous! And besides----"
+
+"Oh, now, Mr. Bowles," protested Mrs. Lee, laying a restraining hand on
+his arm, "I hope you will not shatter all my hopes by falling into this
+dreadful vernacular. If you only knew how much I enjoy your manner of
+speaking, if you knew what memories of New York and the old life your
+words bring up, you would hesitate, I am sure, to cast aside your
+heritage. Really, if Henry would have let me, I should have invited you
+up to the house the very evening you came; but you--well, you had some
+disagreement with him at the start, and it's rather prejudiced him
+against you. And, besides, he has his ideas of discipline, you know, and
+against making exceptions of one man over another; and so--well, I did
+hope you would be able to drive, because now I want to have a good long
+talk.
+
+"I'm not proud, or 'stuck up,' as they say out here, Mr. Bowles," she
+went on, as if eager to begin her holiday; "and really I do everything
+in my power to be friendly, but the class of people who come here--these
+poor, ignorant nesters, and rough, hard-swearing cowboys--they seem
+actually to resent my manner of speaking. Of course, I was a
+school-teacher for a few years--before I married Henry--and I suppose
+that has made a difference; but I do get so lonely sometimes, with Dixie
+out riding around somewhere and Henry off on the round-up--and yet I
+just can't bring myself to speak this awful, vulgar Texas-talk. Now
+Dixie, she rides around anywhere, speaks to all the women, says 'Howdy'
+to all the men, and, I declare, when I hear her talking with these
+cowboys I wonder if she's my own daughter! They have such common ways of
+expressing themselves, although I must say they are always polite
+enough--but what I really object to is their familiar attitude toward
+Dixie. No matter what their class or station, they always seem to take
+it for granted that they are perfectly eligible, and that she is sure to
+marry one of them, and that even the commonest has a kind of gambler's
+chance to win her hand."
+
+She paused, overcome apparently by memories of past courtships, and
+Bowles shuffled his feet uneasily.
+
+"Of course," he said at length, "your daughter is very attractive----"
+
+"Oh, do you think so?" exclaimed Mrs. Lee, making no concealment of her
+pleasure in the fact. "I thought, from the way you spoke to her--when I
+introduced you, you know----"
+
+"Oh, that was just my manner!" interrupted Bowles hastily. "A little
+embarrassed, perhaps."
+
+"But I thought," persisted Mrs. Lee, "I thought from the way you both
+acted that you had met before. In New York, perhaps--you know, she has
+been there all winter--or some time before that evening. You know, Dixie
+is generally so free with the new cowboys, but she spoke up at you so
+sharply, and you----"
+
+"Ah--excuse me," interposed Bowles, "perhaps I would better explain.
+I did meet your daughter, very informally to be sure, on the morning
+of my arrival at Chula Vista. It was that which caused my
+embarrassment--always painful when people fail to recognize you, you
+know--and especially with a lady. Er--what do all these prairie-dogs
+live on, Mrs. Lee? We have passed so many of them, but I don't see----"
+
+"Mr. Bowles," said Mrs. Lee, placing her hand once more upon his arm and
+looking at him with an anxious mother's eyes, "I want you to meet my
+daughter again. She was in New York all winter, you know, and perhaps
+you have some friends in common. Anyway, I wish we could see more of
+you--it would be such a pleasure to me, and Dixie----"
+
+She let her eyes express her longing for the improvement of Dixie's
+diction--a certain approval, too, of Bowles--but he did not respond at
+once. Fighting within his breast was a mad, fatuous desire to stand in
+the presence of his beloved, to hear the music of her voice and behold
+the swiftness and grace of her comings and goings; but almost as an echo
+in his ears he could hear the mocking formalism of her answers, and feel
+the scorn in her eyes as she sneered at him for pursuing her. His face
+became graver as he thought, and then, with the ready wit of his kind,
+he framed up a tactful excuse.
+
+"Oh, thank you," he said. "It's very kind of you, I'm sure--and there is
+nothing I should enjoy more--but under the circumstances I am afraid I
+shall have to decline. You know of course that, whatever my life may
+have been in the past, at present I am nothing but a hired hand--and a
+very poor hand at that, I am afraid. And since Mr. Lee has asked you not
+to make exceptions among the men, I should be very sorry indeed to go
+against his wishes."
+
+"Oh, that is not the rule, Mr. Bowles," protested Mrs. Lee. "We make
+exceptions to it all the time, and I am sure Henry would be glad to have
+you come. Some evening after supper, you know. I want so much to have
+Dixie meet people of refinement and education, and while for the moment
+you may be working as a common cowboy, of course we know----"
+
+"You know very little, as a matter of fact," interposed Bowles; "and I
+am sorry that circumstances make it impossible for me to discuss my
+antecedents. But has it not occurred to you, Mrs. Lee, that, considering
+the attitude of the cowboys in the past, it might--well, my motives
+might be misunderstood--if I should call."
+
+"Why, surely, Mr. Bowles," began Mrs. Lee, her eyes big with wonder,
+"you are not--er--afraid of what the cowboys----"
+
+"Oh, no, no!" protested Bowles, blushing to the tips of his sunburned
+ears. "Certainly not! I did not mean the cowboys."
+
+"Well, what then?" demanded Mrs. Lee, in perplexity.
+
+Mr. Bowles hesitated a moment, looking straight ahead to where Chula
+Vista rose between the horses' ears.
+
+"You will excuse me, Mrs. Lee, I'm sure," he said, speaking very low.
+"But when I spoke of my motives being misunderstood, I did not have
+reference to the cowboys. I was--er--thinking of your daughter."
+
+"My daughter!" echoed Mrs. Lee, suddenly sitting up very straight in her
+seat. Then, as the significance of his remarks became evident, she gazed
+across at him reproachfully.
+
+"Why, Mr. Bowles!" she said; and then there was a long, pensive silence,
+broken only by the thud of flying feet, the rattle and rumble of wheels,
+and the _yikr-r-r_ of startled prairie-dogs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A LETTER FROM THE POSTMISTRESS
+
+
+The morning after Bowles' return from his trip to Chula Vista--during
+which he had made the startling proposition about being misunderstood by
+Dixie Lee--the entire Bat Wing outfit packed up its plunder and pulled
+out for the big round-up. First the cowboys, with a fifteen-mile ride
+ahead of them before they began to gather, went stringing across the
+plains at a high trot; then the remuda, stretching out in a mighty fan
+of horses, came fogging along behind them, to be ready for a change at
+the cutting-grounds; and last the chuck-wagon and the bed-wagon--one
+full of Dutch ovens and provisions, the other piled high with
+well-lashed beds--went hammering through chuck holes and dipping into
+dry washes in a desperate attempt to reach the rendezvous in time for
+dinner.
+
+A gangling youth in overalls, and with a pair of cheap "can-opener"
+spurs on his shoes, acted the part of assistant to the horse-wrangler;
+and an open-faced individual with a great taste for plug tobacco and the
+song called "Casey Jones" drove the bed-wagon for Gloomy Gus; but Bowles
+rode out with the cowboys. By a piece of good luck, he had backed
+Wa-ha-lote into a corner that morning, and so menaced him with his rope
+that the good-natured monarch had finally stood and surrendered for a
+handful of sugar. So Mr. Bowles rode out in style, without any
+ostensible glances toward the big house, where Dixie May was reviewing
+her admirers from the gallery. By this time, of course, Mrs. Lee would
+have informed her daughter of the Eastern stray's presumption--of his
+daring to suggest that, in case he called, she, Dixie, might
+misunderstand his motives and think he was laying siege to her
+heart--and of course Dixie May would be indignant!
+
+But, if she was, she carried it off well, for Bowles never got a look
+from her. Of course, in a bunch of thirty cowboys, even on such a fancy
+mount as high-headed Wa-ha-lote, one man does not stand out
+conspicuously from the rest--that is, not unless his horse is pitching.
+Hardy Atkins was on an outlaw sorrel called El Paso del Norte, and he
+made up the center of the picture. Del Norte was a wonder at the
+buck-jump, especially if some one spurred him in the shoulders, which
+Hardy did, and the departure of our hero was a little dimmed by his
+dust. Still Bowles was pleased, even if he was leaving the home of his
+beloved for two weeks, for something told him that he had at last won
+distinction in the ruck of suitors--the only man who had not let it go
+for granted that he was in love with Dixie Lee. Of course, he
+was--desperately so--but an instinct deep down in his breast warned him
+to conceal it from all the world. And especially from Dixie, the
+capricious; otherwise, she might win him by a glance and a smile, and
+then disprize him forever.
+
+But now the stern realities of life loomed up before him, and Bowles
+found himself with a real round-up on his hands. It does not take much
+of a man to sit on the front porch and talk near-love with a girl; but
+to follow a Western round-up is a task to try the hardiest. For three
+hours Bowles rode at a rough trot across the valley, fighting down the
+awful instinct to rise in his stirrups and "bob"; and then as the
+distant hills grew nearer the cowboys broke into a lope. They separated
+into two parties that formed the horns of a circle, dropping off man
+after man as they jumped up cattle, and still spurring on and on. The
+puncher with the weakest horse was dropped first, for there would be no
+chance to change till noon, and the best mounted was saved to the last
+in order to get his full strength. Bowles was on Wa-ha-lote, and he rode
+to the end before Henry Lee sent him back with the herd.
+
+Very slowly now he plodded along behind his bunch of cattle, riding back
+and forth as he picked up strays, and driving them all to some common
+center. To the right and left, and far across to distant hills, he could
+see lone men at their task, and the great plain became dotted with
+cattle as the circle closed in on the grounds. A hundred cow-trails,
+sinuous as snake-tracks, led in to this place they all sought, and when
+the lowing strings of cattle met it was on the flat by a dammed-up lake.
+There the herds were thrown together, carefully so that no mother should
+lose her calf; and while they stood them upon the cutting-ground the
+wrangler brought up his horses, and each man caught out a fresh mount.
+
+Nowhere in all his work is the mastery of the cowboy more apparent than
+when he changes horses on the open plain. The great remuda of over two
+hundred horses was driven in on the gallop; then the cowboys rounded
+them up, and each man dropped to the ground. One by one they took down
+their ropes and threw the loose ends to their neighbors, and there in a
+minute's time was a corral that would hold the wildest outlaw, for a
+rope is the greatest terror of a cow-pony. It was a rope that
+fore-footed him when he was a colt, and bound him at the branding; every
+morning the long, snaky loops whizzed past their ears and dragged out
+those who must ride till they were ready to drop; and so, even though
+they had the power to brush the rope fence aside, the frightened horses
+huddled away from it and submitted to the noose.
+
+Bowles was barred, for his Mother Hubbard roping threw the herd into a
+frenzy; so he saddled up for Brigham and let that doughty puncher drag
+out his mount. Then the cutting and branding began, and Henry Lee put
+him to flanking calves. Perhaps he, too, had heard of the tenderfoot's
+remarks about his daughter; or it may have been the original grouch; but
+Bowles knew from the look in his eye that he was elected to do his full
+share. So he labored on, trying to learn the tricks of the older
+flankers, and schooling himself to their stoical endurance.
+
+A heavy wind came up, sweeping the dust across the flat in clouds, and
+still the cutters rode and roped. They ate dinner in relays, turning
+their backs to the storm and bolting their grimy food in silence, and
+hurried back to the herd. The sparks from the branding-fire flew fifty
+feet in a line, and the irons would hardly hold heat in the wind; but
+they carried the work through to the end. Then they moved the herd to
+harder ground, and cut it between the gusts, when every horse turned
+tail and the riders shut their eyes. The ones and twos were lumped
+together, the strays turned loose on the plain, and the outfit plodded
+on to the east, driving their cut before them.
+
+That night they camped at a ranch, throwing down their beds in barns and
+sheds, and eating in the open. The next day they braved the wind and
+combed the distant mountain, riding far over the rocky slopes, and
+branding in a canon. On the third day the wind brought up rain and
+sleet, and the mountains were powdered with snow, but the round-up moved
+on inexorably. Then the wind veered to the east and the air became
+bitter cold; Gloomy Gus could hardly cook for the gale that assaulted
+him, and the wrangler lost eight or ten horses; but still the hardy
+cowboys rode and cut and branded, for a round-up never stops for wind
+and weather.
+
+As for Bowles, his face was peeled and swollen, his eyes half-blinded by
+dust and wind, his body chilled through in spite of his clothes, and he
+saw himself in that company like a child among grown-up men. Half of the
+cowboys left their coats on the wagon until the day of the blizzard; and
+Brigham was still in his shirt-sleeves, having rolled up his coat with
+his bed and forgotten to bring his slicker. Yet none of them railed at
+the weather; no one quit; it was their life. Perhaps from their earliest
+boyhood they had braved the Texas northers or endured the continual
+sandstorms of high and windy plains. They were used to it, like the
+horses that bore them; but Bowles was a more delicate plant. All he
+could do was to live on from day to day, wondering at their courage and
+hardihood, and marveling at his own presumption in thinking he could
+play at their game.
+
+A week passed, and the wind grew warmer, though it still swept in from
+the southeast. The outfit reached the limit of its circle and turned
+toward home, sending its cuts of dogies on before it. On the first of
+May they were contracted to be delivered at Chula Vista, there to be
+shipped to Colorado and the Texas Panhandle and fattened into steers.
+But feed was short, for the cold had set back the grass, and Henry Lee
+had wired that he could deliver on the twentieth. So while he waited for
+an answer he sent his cattle ahead of him, and every day as he rode he
+watched for a messenger from home.
+
+Nor was he alone in this, for the messenger would be Dixie; but no one
+said a word. It was part of the patience of these rugged sons of the
+desert that they should make no sign. They were camped in a grove of
+sycamores beneath the shelter of a hill, and the outfit was gathered
+about the fire, when she rode in at the end of the day. Each man of them
+regarded her silently as she carried the word to her father; and then,
+when he nodded his satisfaction, they stirred in expectation of her
+greeting.
+
+"Howd-do, boys?" she said, vaulting lightly off her horse and coming
+nearer. "'Evening, Mr. Mosby; what's the chance for a little supper?"
+
+She looked them all over casually as she drew off her gloves by the
+fire, and for a few minutes the conversation was confined to news. Then
+she went back to her saddle, and returned with a bundle of letters.
+
+"Well, boys," she remarked, with a teasing smile, "I'm postmistress this
+trip, so line up here and give me your present names--also the names you
+went by back in Texas. 'James Doyle!' Why, is that your name, Red?
+Here's one for you, too, Uncle Joe. All right now, here's one from
+Moroni--for Charley Clark! Aw, Brig, are you still writing to that girl
+down on the river? Well, isn't that provoking! And here's a whole bunch
+for Hardy Atkins. Every one from a girl, too--I can tell by the
+handwriting. No, Mr. Buchanan, you don't draw anything--not under that
+name, anyway. But here's one for Sam Houghton--maybe that's for you? No?
+Well, who is it for? No, we can't go any further until I deliver this
+Houghton letter. Who is there here that answers to the name of Sam?"
+
+She glanced all around, a roguish twinkle in her eye, but no one claimed
+that honor.
+
+"Nothing to be afraid of," she urged. "It was mailed at Chula Vista, and
+written by a girl. Pretty handwriting, too--something like mine. I bet
+there's something nice inside of it--I can tell by the curly-cues on the
+letters."
+
+Once more she surveyed her circle of smirking admirers, but no one
+answered the call. She looked again, and her eyes fell on Mr. Bowles.
+
+"Stranger," she said, speaking with well-simulated hesitation, "I didn't
+quite catch your name down at the ranch--isn't this letter for you?"
+
+For a moment Bowles' heart stopped beating altogether and a hundred
+crazy fancies fogged his brain; then he shook his head, and gazed
+shamefacedly away.
+
+"My name is Bowles," he said stiffly; "Samuel Bowles."
+
+"Well, this says Samuel," reasoned Dixie Lee, advancing to show him the
+letter. "Here--take a look at it!"
+
+She stepped very close as she spoke, and as Bowles glanced at her he saw
+that her eyes were big with portent. Then he scanned the letter, and in
+a flash he recognized her handwriting--the same that he had seen on the
+train. A strange impulse to possess the missive swept over him at this,
+and his hand leaped out to seize it; but the look in her eyes detained
+him. They were big with mystery, but he sensed also a shadow of deceit.
+And while she might merely have designs on his peace of mind, there were
+other possibilities involved. To be sure, his name had been Houghton on
+his railroad ticket, but that did not prove anything now; and, besides,
+he did not want even that to be known. Affairs of the heart prosper best
+in secret, without the aid of meddling or officious outsiders; and for
+that reason, if for no other, Bowles desired to remain incog. Even with
+a false clue, Dixie May might write to New York, and ultimately reach
+his aunt, thus cutting short his romantic adventures. She might
+even--but he skipped the rest of the things she might do, and
+straightened his face to a mask.
+
+"Ah, thank you, no," he said, speaking very formally. "Not for
+me--though the handwriting does seem familiar."
+
+"Maybe it's money from home," she suggested; but still he refused to
+accept. He was ignorant of the ways of women, but his instincts were
+trained to a hair-line, and he read mischief in her heart. Yet curiosity
+almost tempted him to accede--or was it the witchery of her presence?
+For Dixie May stood very close to him, closer than was necessary, and as
+she argued, half in earnest, she fixed him with her eyes.
+
+The boys by the fire, who had been looking on in wonder, became suddenly
+restive and impatient. Their little game of post-office had been broken
+up in the middle, and this stranger was monopolizing the postmistress.
+
+"But the postmaster thought it was for you," persisted Dixie May, now
+apparently annoyed. "He described you down to your hat-band; and if I
+don't get rid of this letter I'll have to take it clear back to town. Of
+course----"
+
+"Aw, take the letter!" broke in Hardy Atkins, striding over from his
+place and fiercely confronting Bowles. "What's the matter with
+you--ain't you got no manners? Well then, when a lady asks you to take a
+letter, _take it_!"
+
+He reached out to get the letter and force it upon him forthwith, but
+Dixie May tossed her head and jerked the missive away.
+
+"Who called you in on this, Hardy Atkins?" she inquired, turning upon
+him haughtily. "It's a wonder you wouldn't go off somewhere and read
+those pink scented billets-doux I gave you. I reckon this man knows his
+own name without any outside help. Now, you go on away and let me do
+this!"
+
+He went, his lips pouted out petulantly and a shifty look in his eye,
+and once more the fair postmistress turned upon her victim.
+
+"Now, here," she said, lowering her voice and speaking confidentially,
+"I'm not trying to force this upon you, but I've got a duty to perform.
+Think of the poor lady that wrote this letter," she urged, smiling
+significantly; "she may have something important to tell you. And don't
+mind a little thing like an alias--these boys have all got one." Once
+more she smiled, holding out the letter; and the boys favored him with
+dark and forbidding glances; but Bowles was game to the end.
+
+"So sorry," he murmured, bowing deferentially; "but my name is Bowles,
+not Houghton."
+
+"Well, well," said Dixie Lee, looking him between the eyes; "so your
+name is Bowles, eh? I certainly hope you'll excuse me, stranger, but I
+sure thought your name was Houghton!"
+
+So saying, she turned and left him; and after pondering upon the matter
+for some time Bowles suddenly felt his heart go sick, for she had
+addressed him at the last as "Stranger."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE ENGLISH LORD
+
+
+A remarkable series of accidents happened to Bat Wing Bowles immediately
+after his discourtesy to the lady--accidents which seemed to indicate
+that he had lost his horseshoe as well as the good-will of his
+associates. For while Bowles had been a raw hand from the start it had
+early been remarked that horses would not pitch with him--but now, on
+the very morning after his contretemps, his mount took a fit of bucking
+which all but landed him in the dirt. A term of years in a military
+academy, as well as a considerable experience in riding to hounds, had
+left Bowles a little vain of his horsemanship; but in this emergency he
+had been compelled to reach down and frankly grab the horn. Otherwise he
+would have been "piled" before he could recover from the surprise. As it
+was, he was badly jarred, not only by the shock of the buck-jumps but
+also by the caustic comments of the cowboys.
+
+"Oh, mamma!" shouted one. "See 'im choke that horn!"
+
+"Let go of the noodle, Sam!" advised another; and then, in a kind of
+chant, they recited those classic lines that are supposed to drive
+Englishmen mad:
+
+"Hit's not the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse's 'oofs; hit's the 'ammer,
+'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway!"
+
+Time and again Bowles had explained that he was not English, that all
+gentlemen rose to the trot in the East, and that his people had never
+dropped an "h" in their lives. Like an old and groundless scandal that
+lives on denial alone, the tradition still clung to him; and now, as
+some vagrant fancy turned their will against him, they voiced their
+disapproval in this ancient gibe.
+
+"It's Hinglish, you know!" they shouted; and once more Bowles was
+branded as an alien. And all for refusing a letter and speaking saucily
+to a lady.
+
+As for the lady, she stayed at a ranch over night and went out early in
+the morning, taking a short-cut through the nesters' lanes for Chula
+Vista. A telegram must be sent to the receiving company that the cattle
+would be delivered on the twentieth, the cattle-cars must be ordered
+from the railroad, and the cattle inspector notified of the change; for
+the grass was eaten down to the rocks at Chula Vista, and a wait at the
+pens would be fatal. All these details Henry Lee trusted to his
+daughter, and, forgetting the frivolous nothings of yesterday, she rode
+past the Bat Wing outfit without stopping or waving her hand. Then
+somebody put something on Bowles' horse and they started the day with a
+circus.
+
+A second day, full of excitement and rough riding, followed, and then
+the gang took pity on the poor tenderfoot and left him to think it over.
+But Bowles was not broken in spirit; far from it, for he had been
+secretly longing for a horse that would buck. He was rapidly becoming so
+wise that deception was no longer practicable. When a man has an old
+staid cow-pony rise up under him and try to paw the white out of the
+moon, he is liable to look over his rigging rather carefully to see what
+it was all about; and if he should find a yellow spot on the flap of his
+saddle-blanket, a tender place on his horse's rump, and a suspicious
+odor of carbon bisulphide in the air, he is likely to shy away from
+unfriendly horsemen, even if he never heard of "high-lifing" a bronk.
+Those were eventful days for Samuel Bowles, and he found himself
+learning fast, when Henry Lee suddenly called him aside and told him to
+go with Brigham.
+
+Brigham was taking a bunch of dogies back to the home ranch and he
+needed a man to help him--also the boss was getting a little tired of
+these sudden accidents to Bowles. He was not conducting a circus or a
+Wild West Show but a serious and precarious business, and a touch of
+"high-life" at the wrong time might stampede his whole herd of cattle.
+So he told the tenderfoot to go on the drive with Brigham.
+
+There is a good deal left unsaid in a cow camp--so much, in fact, that a
+stranger never knows what is going on; and Brigham had been as silent as
+the rest while Bowles was taking his medicine. Even on the drive he was
+strangely quiet, chewing away soberly at his tobacco and looking out
+from under his hat with squinting and cynical eyes. They were friends
+now, as far as a tenderfoot can expect to have a friend, but Brigham
+said nothing about stringing the cattle, and asked no questions about
+gay New York--he had something on his mind. And when the time came he
+spoke it out.
+
+"Say, stranger," he said, still calling him by that cold name which
+marked him as a man apart, "did you see Dixie Lee back in New York last
+winter?"
+
+It was a bolt out of the blue sky; but Bowles was trained to
+evasions--he had lived in polite society and tried to keep friends with
+Truth.
+
+"Miss Lee?" he repeated in tones of wonderment.
+
+"W'y, sure," answered Brigham; "she was back there all winter."
+
+"So I hear," observed Bowles; "but there were about four million other
+people there too, Brig; so I can't say for sure. Why? What made you
+ask?"
+
+"Oh--nothin'," mumbled Brig, playing with the rowel on his spur as he
+watched the cattle graze; "only it seemed like, the way she spoke to you
+the other day, you'd mebbe met before. Some of the boys said they
+reckoned you knowed her back there--she talked so kinder friendly-like."
+
+A thrill went over Bowles at those kind words, but he hastened to cover
+up his tracks. Once let the boys know that he had followed her from the
+East, and there would be a dramatic end to all his hopes and dreams.
+
+"I'll tell you, Brig," he said, speaking confidentially; "I did meet
+Miss Lee down at Chula Vista the morning she came home, and that
+probably gave them the idea. But, say, now--about that letter. She
+didn't even know my name--now, why should she do a thing like that? My
+name isn't Houghton, and she knew I couldn't take the letter. It's
+against the law! What was she trying to do--play a joke on me?"
+
+He made his voice as boyish and pleading as possible; but it takes a
+good actor to deceive the simple-hearted, and Brigham only looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"What did you say yore name was?" he inquired at last; and when Bowles
+told him he chewed upon it ruminatively. "Some of the boys thought mebbe
+you was an English lord, or somethin'," he observed, glancing up quickly
+to see how Mr. Bowles would take it. "Course I knowed you wasn't," he
+admitted as Bowles wound up his protest; "but you certainly ain't no
+puncher."
+
+Bowles could read the jealousy and distrust in his voice, and he saw it
+was time to speak up.
+
+"Say, Brig," he said, trying as far as possible to speak in the new
+vernacular, "I've always been friendly to you, haven't I? I know I've
+tried to be, and I want to keep your friendship. Now, I don't care what
+Hardy Atkins and his gang think, because they're nothing to me anyway,
+but I want you to know that I am on the square. Of course, I'm under an
+assumed name, and I guess you've noticed I don't get any letters; but
+that's no crime, is it?"
+
+There was a genuine ring to his appeal now, and Brigham was quick to
+answer it.
+
+"Aw, that's all right, pardner," he said. "I don't care what you did.
+Kinder hidin' out myself."
+
+"Well, but I want to tell you, anyway," protested Bowles. "A man's got
+to have a friend somewhere, and I know you won't give me away. I didn't
+commit any crime--it isn't the sheriff I'm afraid of--but there must
+have been somebody down in Chula Vista that was following me, because I
+came away from New York on a ticket that was signed Sam Houghton. That
+isn't my name, you understand--but I signed it for a blind. Then I left
+the train at Albuquerque and came quietly off down here. But it looks as
+if somebody is searching for me."
+
+"Umm!" murmured Brigham, nodding his head and squinting wisely. "I got
+into a little racket down on the river one time, and the _sheriff_ was
+lookin' fer me. Made no difference--the feller got well anyhow--but you
+bet I was ridin' light fer a while.
+
+"_I_'ll tell you what we'll do!" he cried, carried away by some sudden
+enthusiasm. "I'm gittin' tired of this Teehanno outfit--let's call fer
+our time and hit the trail! Was you ever up in the White Mountains?
+Well, pardner, we'll head fer them--that's the prettiest country in
+God's world! Deer and bear and wild turkeys everywhere--and fish! Say,
+them cricks is so full of trout they ain't hardly room fer the water.
+The Apaches never eat 'em--nor turkeys neither, fer that matter--and all
+you have to have is a little flour and bacon, and a man can live like a
+king. They's some big cow outfits up there, too--Double Circles, an'
+Wine Glass an' Cherrycow. Come on! What d'ye say? Let's quit! This ain't
+the only outfit in America!"
+
+For the moment Bowles was almost carried away by this sudden rush of
+enthusiasm, and even after a second thought it still appealed to him
+strongly.
+
+"Are there many bears up there?" he inquired, as if wavering upon a
+decision.
+
+"Believe me!" observed Brigham, swaggering at the thought. "And mountain
+lions, too! A man has to watch his horses in that country, or he'll find
+himself afoot."
+
+"And the Indians?"
+
+"Well," admitted Brigham, "of course them Apaches are bad--but they keep
+'em around the Fort most of the time, and don't let 'em carry guns when
+they go out--nothin' but bows and arrows. Come on--they won't make us no
+trouble!"
+
+"Well, by Jove, Brig," sighed Bowles, drawing a long breath, "I'm
+awfully tempted to do it!"
+
+"Sure," nodded Brigham, "finest trip in the world--an' I know that
+country like a book!"
+
+"But let's finish the round-up first," suggested Bowles. "And, besides,
+I want to find out who it is that's searching for me. I guess I didn't
+tell you what I'm hiding for?"
+
+"No," shrugged Brigham; "that's all right. Then if anybody should ask
+me, I'll tell 'em I don't know nothin'."
+
+"Well, I'm going to tell you, anyhow!" cried Bowles impulsively. "I've
+got an aunt back East, and she's an awfully nice woman--does everything
+for me--but I have to do what she says. She doesn't _make_ me do it, you
+know--she just _expects_ me to do it! Maybe you never had any one like
+that? Well, I've always tried to do what she liked--she's my father's
+sister, you know--but this spring I just had to run away."
+
+"Too much fer you, eh?" commented Brigham, grinning.
+
+"No, it wasn't that so much, but she--she told me I ought to get
+married!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter?" inquired Brigham, his grin wreathing back to
+his ears. "What's the matter with that?"
+
+Bowles blushed and blinked with embarrassment.
+
+"Well, the fact is, Brigham," he said, "she picked out the girl
+herself!"
+
+"No! Never asked you, nor nothin'? What did the girl say?"
+
+"Oh, Christabel? Why, she never knew, of course. I came out West
+immediately."
+
+A puzzled look came over Brigham's honest face.
+
+"Say, lemme git the straight of this," he said. "I'm a kind of Mormon
+myself, you know, and these fellers are always throwin' it into me about
+the way Mormons marry off their gals--did yore aunt make some trade with
+her folks?"
+
+"Who--Christabel?" gasped Bowles, now breaking into a sweat. "Why, bless
+your soul, no! You don't understand how things are done in New York,
+Brig. Nothing was even _said_, you know, it was just understood! My aunt
+didn't even tell me whom she had in mind--she just told me I ought to be
+married, and threw me into Christabel's society. But I knew it--I knew
+it from the first day--and rather than hurt Christabel's feelings I just
+picked up and ran away!"
+
+"Well, I'll be durned!" observed Brigham, gazing upon him with wonder.
+"And we thought you was tryin' to git Dix!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BURYING THE HATCHET
+
+
+To the hard-riding cowboy of the plains, the subtleties of emotion and
+romance are a closed book--just as the hand that whirls the rope is too
+crabbed to play the violin. Some of us in this world must do the heavy
+work. Some hands must be knotted, some backs bent with labor, some brows
+furrowed with wind and weather and the hard realities of life; but in
+return the laborers gain the strength of the wind-tossed oak and the
+patience of the ages. There are others whose lot it is to write the
+poetry and paint the pictures and reach out into the great unknown for a
+thousand haunting chords and harmonies; but they are a people apart.
+Their very sensitiveness makes them unequal to the stress of life; their
+slender hands cannot perform hard labor, and their hearts cannot endure
+the monotony and anguish of unremitting toil--yet they have their place
+in the world.
+
+The time may come when the tasks and rewards will be divided again and
+each of us be given a more equal share, but until that day men will fall
+into classes--and neither will understand the other. Samuel Bowles had
+lived the protected life, but Brigham had buffeted his way. At the story
+of the Lady Christabel he stood agape, marveling at the man who could
+perceive such subtle advances, wondering at the nature that would flee
+for such a cause; but in the end he gazed upon him pityingly, and
+accepted him for his friend.
+
+"I'll tell you, pardner," he said, as they drifted their cattle along;
+"I'm up ag'inst it, too. They's a gal over on the river--don't make no
+difference about her name--but I used to think a lot of her. Wasn't
+skeered of her none, the way I am with Dix. She was an awful good girl,
+too--no fly ways or nothin'--an' I was kinder fixin' to marry her when I
+had this racket with the bishop. My folks are all Mormons, of course,
+and so are hers, and I like 'em well enough in certain ways, but I can't
+stand them dang priests. As long as I'm free I can pull out and go where
+I please, but the minute I marry and settle down I'm up ag'inst it
+proper."
+
+"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Bowles, thinking of all the awful
+things he had heard about the Saints, but discreetly holding his peace.
+"Will they punish you for running away?"
+
+"No," answered Brigham, shaking his head dolefully, "it ain't that--it's
+the things they make you do. I'm a renegade now--I don't pay tithes or
+nothin'--but if I settled down on the river I'd have to come in ag'in.
+Mebbe jist about the time I'm married they summon me fer a mission. Two
+years to some foreign country to bring in converts to the church--an'
+who's goin' to take care of my wife?"
+
+"Oh!" breathed Bowles sympathetically. "That _is_ bad! Why don't you get
+married and live somewhere else, then?"
+
+"That's jest it," frowned Brigham. "Gal's a Mormon too, and she won't
+come. So there I am!"
+
+"Ah!" said Bowles; and they rode a long time in silence.
+
+"That letter was from her," volunteered Brigham, jerking his head back
+toward the place where they had been camped, and after that he said no
+more. The old cynical look came into his squinted eyes, and he strung
+out the cattle methodically until they came to the home ranch. It was
+four o'clock in the afternoon then, and they lay over until the next
+day.
+
+The Bat Wing bunk-house was hardly a cheery lounging place. Outside of
+the illustrated magazine literature with which the walls were papered,
+the library consisted of three books--a boot, spur and saddle catalogue,
+"Lin McLean," and that classic of the cow camps, "Three Weeks." When the
+entire outfit was at "the home," Happy Jack was in the habit of reading
+choice passages of "Three Weeks" to his friends, he being the scholar of
+the bunch, and closing each selection with the remark: "Well, I reckon
+that's plain enough for you, ain't it?" And the boys would generally
+agree that it was.
+
+With the memory of Happy Jack still in mind, Bowles took shame to
+himself and read Owen Wister's "Lin McLean" instead, finding there a
+tenderfoot on another range who was worse even than himself. As things
+were coming now, Bowles hardly considered himself a tenderfoot any more.
+To be sure, he could not rope in the corral; but there were several
+local punchers in the same fix; and when it came to riding, he still had
+Wa-ha-lote in his string as a tribute to his skill as a fence jumper. He
+had also sat out a bucking fit or two when the boys put high-life on his
+horse; and, taken all in all he was not the worst rider in the outfit,
+by any means. As a branding hand, also, he was able to do his share; he
+had learned some of the rudiments of handling cattle; and his face had
+peeled off and tanned again, leaving him with a complexion in no wise
+different from that of his bronzed companions. And then, to top it all,
+he had won the friendship of Brigham, who was so good that he passed for
+a cowman.
+
+Poor old Brigham! He never said what was in that letter from his girl,
+but Bowles knew he was wrestling with his problem. His carefree laugh
+was silenced for the time and, after cooking up a little food in the
+kitchen that stood next to the bunk-house, he had caught up a fresh
+mount and ridden off alone. The windmill man and the fence mender were
+out on their rounds, and Bowles was reading "The Winning of the
+Biscuit-shooter" and wondering if it was true, when a horse trotted into
+the yard. Presently he heard a saddle hit the ground, and the pasture
+gate swing to, and then there was a clank of spurs on the stoop. The
+door swung open, and as he glanced up from where he lay he saw Dixie Lee
+looking in at him.
+
+The instincts of a lifetime prompted Bowles to rise to his feet and bow,
+but other instincts were crowding in on him now, and he only nodded his
+head. The memory, perhaps, of a fake letter to Samuel Houghton gave
+color to his indifference, and for the first time in his life he gazed
+at her with a shadow of disapproval. She was glorious indeed to look
+upon; but it is the heart that counts, and Dixie had seemed a little
+unkind. So he lay there with the book before him, and waited for her to
+speak. It was the first time they had been alone together since he had
+left her at Chula Vista, and it was not his part to make advances after
+what she had told him then.
+
+As for Dixie, she seemed suddenly embarrassed and ill at ease, though
+she carried it off with her usual frontier recklessness.
+
+"Hello there, cowboy!" she said, dropping down on the steps. "Where'd
+you come from?"
+
+"I came from the upper water with Brig," answered Bowles, speaking for
+his part with decorous politeness. "We brought down a bunch of twos."
+
+A smile swept over Dixie Lee's face at this lapse into the vernacular,
+but she brushed it away as he frowned.
+
+"Bunch of twos, eh?" she repeated. "Say, you're getting to be a regular
+cowboy now, ain't you?
+
+"Where's Brig?" she inquired, when she saw that her remark displeased
+him; and once more he answered and fell silent.
+
+"He's a great fellow, old Brig," she went on, settling herself
+comfortably against the door-sill and indicating that the conversation
+was on; "you seem to be pretty thick with him!"
+
+"Yes," agreed Bowles, sitting up and laying his book aside; "I like
+Brigham very much."
+
+"He's a great fellow to tell stories," continued Dixie; "always talking
+and laughing, too--I never did see such a good-natured man."
+
+"Yes," assented Bowles a little doubtfully; "I guess he's awfully
+good-natured--but even fat folks have their troubles, you know."
+
+"Why, what's the matter with Brig? Has he run out of chewing tobacco?"
+
+"Well, no," said Bowles; "it's not that. I guess it's that letter you
+gave him."
+
+"Letter!" repeated Dixie incredulously. "What, from his girl? Oh, he'll
+be all right in a day or so--who ever heard of a cowboy going into a
+decline? And say, talking about letters, why didn't you take that one I
+wrote you the other day? I had something mighty special to communicate
+to you in that, but you'll never get it now! I hope the boys did
+something to you!"
+
+"Yes," answered Bowles serenely; "they hazed me for a day or two. You
+seem to have a great many admirers out here, Miss Lee."
+
+Dixie May's eyes flashed at the evident implication, and she had a
+retort on her lips, but something in his manner restrained her.
+
+"How can I help it if the boys get foolish?" she demanded severely. "And
+you don't want to let your Eastern ideas deceive you--it's the custom of
+the country out here."
+
+"Yes, indeed," purled Bowles; "and a very pretty custom, too. Have you
+just come back from Chula Vista?"
+
+"Yes, I have!" snapped Dixie. "But you don't need to get so superior
+about it! I guess I can do what I please, can't I?"
+
+"Why, certainly," assented Bowles.
+
+"Well, then, what do you want to get so supercilious for?" raged Dixie.
+"I don't know, there's something about the way you talk that fairly
+maddens me! I've a good mind to tell the boys who you are, and have them
+run you out of the country! Why didn't you take that letter I wrote
+you?"
+
+She was angry now, and her voice was pitched high for a scolding, but
+Bowles showed no signs of fear.
+
+"The letter you wrote was addressed to Samuel Houghton," he said; "and
+that is not my name."
+
+"Well, what is your name, then?" demanded Dixie. "Bowles?"
+
+For a moment Bowles gazed at her, and there was a pained look in his
+eyes--what if his beloved should turn out to be a scold?
+
+"Why do you ask?" he inquired; and so gently did he say it that she
+faltered, as if ashamed.
+
+"Well," she said, "I guess it isn't any of my business, _is_ it? I don't
+know what I'm doing here, anyway. If there's any one thing that makes
+Mother furious, it's to see me hanging around the bunk-house. She thinks
+I----"
+
+She rose suddenly, and shook out her skirt, but Bowles did not protest.
+
+"You don't seem to care whether I go or not?" she pouted.
+
+"Quite the contrary, I assure you, Miss Lee," declared Bowles earnestly.
+"But I'm not on my own ground now, and--well, I don't wish to take
+advantage of your hospitality."
+
+"No," said Dixie with gentle irony, "nothing like that! You want to be
+careful how you treat these Arizona girls--they're liable to
+misunderstand your motives!"
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU WANT TO BE CAREFUL HOW YOU TREAT THESE ARIZONA
+GIRLS!'"]
+
+Bowles' eyes lighted up with a merry twinkle, but he preserved his poker
+face.
+
+"Oh, I hope not!" he said; and then both of them smiled very knowingly.
+
+"The reason I wanted to get your name," observed Dixie, sitting down and
+smoothing out her skirt again, "was in case you got hurt or killed. Who
+am I going to write to in case you go out like Dunbar? Houghton? Bowles?
+Or who-all? You know, I feel kind of responsible for you, considering
+the way you got out here, and----"
+
+"Oh, don't think of that!" protested Bowles, coming over and sitting
+near her. "If I get hurt, the boys will take care of me; and if I get
+killed--well, it won't matter then what you do."
+
+"Well, don't get killed," urged Dixie kindly. "And if you get hurt,
+Mother and I will nurse you back to health and strength."
+
+"Oh, will you?" cried Bowles. "I'll remember that, you may be sure! But,
+speaking of names, has there been any one in Chula Vista inquiring for
+Samuel Houghton?"
+
+"Now, you see!" exclaimed Dixie Lee triumphantly. "If you'd opened that
+letter I had for you, you'd have found out about it. As it is, you'll
+just have to keep on guessing--I'm mad!"
+
+"I'm sorry," said Bowles. "The reason I asked was, Brig and I are
+planning to make a little trip somewhere, and if I thought there was any
+one searching for me I'd----"
+
+"Oh, you don't need to run away!" explained Dixie hurriedly. "I'll tell
+you when to skip--but you don't know what you missed by not reading that
+letter I wrote you!"
+
+"Well, direct the next one to Bowles, then!" he pleaded. "But, no
+joking, I wish you wouldn't call attention to that other name--it's
+likely to get me into difficulties."
+
+"What kind of difficulties?" inquired Dixie Lee demurely; but Bowles
+only shook his head.
+
+"I'm very sorry I can't tell you," he said; "but it means a great deal
+to me."
+
+"Maybe I can help you," she suggested.
+
+"Yes, indeed, you can!" assured Bowles, drawing nearer and smiling his
+naive smile. "Just don't tell anybody what you know, and let me have a
+chance. I've always been shut off from the world, you know--I've never
+had a chance. Just let me fight my way and see if I'm not a man. I know
+I'm new, and there are lots of things that come hard for me; but give me
+a chance to stay and maybe I'll win out. You don't know, Miss Lee, how
+much I treasure those stories you told me--when we were coming West on
+the train, you know. Don't you know, I think you have more of the
+feeling, more of the fine spirit of the West, than any one I have met.
+These cowboys seem so barren, some way; they seem to take it as a matter
+of course. And they all stay away from me--except Brigham. I don't get
+many stories now."
+
+He paused and Dixie May eyed him curiously. He was not the same man who
+had traveled with her on the train. A month had made a difference with
+him. But there was still the boyish innocence that she liked.
+
+"You mean stories about outlaws and Indians?" she said. "Hunting and
+trapping, and all that?"
+
+"Yes!" nodded Bowles, glancing over at her appealingly. "Where does that
+old trapper, Bill Jump, live? You know--the one you were telling about!"
+
+"Oh, Bill? He lives up here on the Black Mesa--anywhere between here and
+the New Mexico line--and he sure is one of the grandest liars that ever
+breathed, too. I remember one time----"
+
+Bowles settled himself inside the doorway and drank in the magical tale.
+It was as if the Old West rose up before him, blotting out the
+barbed-wire fences and the lonely homes of the nesters and bringing back
+the age of romance that he sought. He questioned her eagerly, still
+watching her with his boyish, admiring eyes, and Dixie plunged into
+another. The sun, which was getting low, swung lower and a door slammed
+up at the big house. Then a reproachful voice came floating down, and
+Dixie jumped up from her seat.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "There's Maw--seems like I never get any
+peace! But, anyway, this old bear with the trap on his foot picked up
+Bill's gun and threw the chamber open, then he looked up into the tree
+where Bill was hanging and crooked his finger--like that! And Bill Jump
+said he knowed it jest as if that ol' b'ar spoke--he was signaling him
+to throw him down a cartridge, so he could put Bill out of his misery!
+Or that was what Bill said. But, say, I've got to be running--come up to
+the house to-night and let me tell you the rest of it! Oh, pshaw, we
+know what your motives are! Come along anyhow! And bring Brig with you!
+All right--good-by!"
+
+She gave him a dizzy smile over her shoulder as she fled, and Bowles
+blinked his eyes to find the world so fair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE STRAW-BOSS
+
+
+It is the philosophy of the poseurs in pessimism that for every happy
+moment we have in life we pay at a later date a greater price. Of
+course, any one who ever took a kid to the circus knows better, but
+there are times when the doctrine seems to hold. When Bowles returned to
+the round-up, the news of his perfidy had preceded him--he had taken
+advantage of his position and spent the evening at the big house!
+Thereupon the hotheads lowered upon him malignantly, and Hardy Atkins
+hunted up his high-life bottle.
+
+The accepted function of carbon bisulphide in the great Southwest is to
+kill off prairie-dogs. A tablespoonful poured on a cow-chip and rolled
+down a dog hole will asphyxiate the entire family. The same amount
+poured on a man's horse will make the man think he has been shot with a
+pack-saddle, and that was what happened to Bowles. When he became too
+wary for the bottle, they resorted to other means, and finally he
+detected the bronco-twister with a loaded syringe in his hand.
+
+"Now, that will do, Mr. Atkins," he observed with some asperity. "It's
+all right for you boys to haze me a little, but my horses are getting
+spoiled and I'll have to ask you to stop."
+
+"Oho!" shouted Bar Seven and the stray men, who had sweethearts in other
+parts and dearly loved excitement. "He caught you at it, Hardy! Now what
+you goin' to do?"
+
+"I ain't goin' to do nothin'," declared Hardy Atkins, carefully stowing
+his squirt-gun away. "No Hinglishman looks bad to me, and I'll high-life
+him whenever I like!"
+
+"You will not!" said Henry Lee, coming up as he heard the words. "I've
+had enough of this foolishness, and I want you to quit right now. First
+thing you know that hawse will pitch into the herd and we'll have a
+stampede on our hands. Now, come ahead and clean out this pasture, we'll
+start the drive for town."
+
+They rounded up the pastures then, one after the other, and soon the
+great herd of dogies was strung out on the road. At regular distances
+along the flanks the swing men plodded along; toward the front the two
+point men directed the head of the herd; and, behind, the remainder of
+the men brought up the drag. They traveled slowly, sometimes swinging
+out into the hills and letting the cattle feed, and as they drifted
+along over the rock-patches the _clack, clack, clack_ of splay-toed
+hoofs made a noise like rain on the roof. At intervals some stubborn
+two-year-old would break from the tail of the herd, some fresh-branded
+calf fall by the wayside, to be left for another drive; but the day of
+the steer is past on the lower ranges of the great Southwest, and
+feeders are easier to handle. So they dragged on, drifting over to the
+river for water and back onto the plains for the night, and many a
+nester's fence was laid flat as they jerked it to turn out the strays.
+Then, at the end of the third day, they came within sight of Chula Vista
+and Henry Lee rode on ahead.
+
+"Hardy," he said as he turned his horse toward town, "I'll leave you in
+charge of the herd. Put them into the pens for the night, and hold the
+remuda out on the flats. I'll be down as soon as I find my men. And,
+remember, no drinking!"
+
+He looked very hard at his straw-boss as he spoke, and Hardy Atkins
+answered him dutifully; but when the boss was gone he turned and winked
+at his partners.
+
+"You hear me now, boys," he said. "No drinkin'! You know the rule--you
+cain't drink whisky and work fer Henry Lee! Umph-umm! But I hope to Gawd
+some of them town boys come out with a bottle!"
+
+He smacked his lips as he spoke, and made up a funny face.
+
+"I got three months' pay comin' to me," he remarked, and went spurring
+up to the front.
+
+"I never seen the time yet," observed Buck Buchanan, as he loafed
+philosophically along with the drag, "that I couldn't git another job
+somewhere. When I've got money comin' to me, I want to spend it, by
+Joe!"
+
+"Sure!" agreed Happy Jack, who had been singing songs all day. "What's
+the use of workin', anyway?"
+
+"That's me!" chimed in Poker Bill. "Let's quit and draw our pay!"
+
+"Put these cows in the pen first," said Jack, snapping his fingers and
+waltzing airily in his saddle.
+
+    "Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies,
+      It's all yore misfortune and none of my own.
+    Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies,
+      'Cause you know my whistle is dry as a bone."
+
+It was a new experience to Bowles, this riding into a cow town, and he
+viewed with wide-eyed alarm the evidences of dissolution and revolt.
+Even Brigham was licking his lips and gazing at the town; and when the
+first bottle came out he took a long drink with the rest. Bowles excused
+himself, and wondered what would happen; but the half-drunken cowboy who
+brought out the life-saver never gave him a second look. It was not so
+hard to dispose of whisky in those parts.
+
+As the herd neared town, the idle and curious came riding out to see it,
+and Bowles was pained to notice certain painted women, who seemed to
+know the boys by their first names. They rode along the herd, waving
+handkerchiefs and shouting greetings, and a sudden distrust of frontier
+morality came over him as he observed the shameless response. The
+shipping pens were below the town about a mile--a barren square of
+whitewashed fencing, backed up to a side-track full of empty
+stock-cars--and as the weary cattle dragged along across the flats Hardy
+Atkins and a bunch of punchers cut off the leaders and whooped them on
+ahead. There was a jam at the gates, a break or two, and then the first
+timid dogie stepped fearfully into the enclosure. The smell of water in
+the troughs lured him on, the rest followed, and when the main herd came
+up it was artfully tailed on to the drag.
+
+At last! The high gate swung to on the harvest of the long round-up, and
+the punchers raced their horses to be first at the waiting chuck-wagon.
+In an angle of the fence Gloomy Gus had unpacked his ovens and set up
+his fire irons, and now as they flew at their supper he surveyed them
+with cynical calm.
+
+"Whar's Henry Lee?" he inquired at length; and Hardy Atkins pointed back
+to town with his knife.
+
+"He's over lookin' up his buyer," he said. "I'm the boss now, Cusi; what
+can I do fer you?"
+
+"Oh, you're boss now, are you?" repeated Gus, with heavy scorn. "Well,
+then, why don't you send some one out to relieve thet hawse wrangler?
+He'll be turnin' the remuda loose pretty soon, from the way he's been
+makin' signs."
+
+"Aw, he'll keep!" laughed the straw-boss. "Hey, fellers, who wants the
+first guard to-night?"
+
+Nobody spoke.
+
+"Somebody's got to stand guard," he observed, running his eyes over the
+crowd. "First guard's the best--eight to half-past ten. Bill? Jim? Hank?
+Well, I'll make it Jim and Hank, anyhow--only way to keep 'em in camp.
+You boys know Mr. Lee's orders--no drinkin' now--I don't want to find
+you downtown!"
+
+"Aw-haw-haw!" roared the crowd. That was a good one--he didn't want to
+find them downtown! Well, what would _he_ be doing down there?
+
+"Well, who's goin' to relieve us?" inquired Hank plaintively. "Last time
+we was down I had to stand guard all night!"
+
+The bronco-twister ran his eyes over the crowd again, as if searching
+for some one.
+
+"Where's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" he demanded
+facetiously. "He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--and
+Hinglish, too. Hinglish, I'll ask you and yore Mormon friend, Mr. Clark,
+to kindly stand the second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Jack and Buck
+fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand guard."
+
+"Oh, thunder!" grumbled Brig, as he threw himself down on his bed. "I
+wish the boss would come back. Them rounders will stay in town all
+night. Let's take a little flier ourselves," he urged as Bowles lay down
+beside him. "We can git back in time!"
+
+But a sudden sense of responsibility had come over Bowles as he observed
+how the crowd faded away, and he held Brigham to his post. At
+ten-thirty, in response to a hurried summons, they took a spare blanket
+for warmth and rode out to stand their guard.
+
+The stars wheeled round in their courses and sank down in the west; the
+horses shifted about on the barren plain and made their customary
+efforts to escape; and when the first cold light of dawn crept in, it
+showed "Hinglish" and his Mormon friend still standing their lonely
+vigil.
+
+But for once in a lifetime self-sacrificing virtue got its reward, for
+Henry Lee came riding out with his buyer at daylight and discovered them
+at their post. He did not say much--in fact he did not say anything--and
+Brigham and Bowles did the same; but there was a difference in the air.
+At last Bowles had justified his existence--he had stayed with his job
+to the end.
+
+There was a hurried searching of the town for Bat Wing cowboys, a
+straggling return of drunken and mutinous punchers, and then, with
+barely men enough to man the gates, the work of shipping began. By twos
+and threes the dogies were driven down a lane; the cattle inspector read
+the brands and made his tally, and the buyer passed them on or cut them
+back. Then, as the cutting and re-cutting was finished, the cattle were
+punched up the chutes and crowded into the cars. As the day wore on,
+more and more of the hands returned and took up the prod pole; but Henry
+Lee made no remarks. Even when his trusted straw-boss showed up late, he
+made no comment; but once back in camp he pulled his book like a pistol,
+and began to write out checks.
+
+"Well, boys," he said, "you were drunk last night; I'll have to give you
+your time. Hardy, you're a good cow-hand, but I'll have to let you go,
+too. So here's your time checks; and turn your horses out. I've got to
+have men I can trust."
+
+There was a heavy silence at this, for all the outfits in the country
+were full-handed now, and no one was looking for men. And Henry Lee was
+a good man to work for--he treated his hands white, fed them well, and
+paid the top price to boot. He also kept the best of them over winter,
+while others were riding the chuck-line or hanging around livery-stables
+in town. But nobody said a word, for they knew it would do no good; and,
+after he had paid them off and gone back to town, the luckless ones who
+had been fired drew off by themselves and talked the matter over. To be
+sure, they had the price of a drunk in their clothes; but they were
+fired and put afoot now, and town has no allurements to a cowboy unless
+he can ride in on a horse. So Hardy Atkins and his Texas followers
+lolled sulkily around the camp, sleeping fitfully in their blankets and
+glowering at Brigham Clark and the few careful spirits who had escaped
+their employer's wrath. And in particular they glowered at Bowles, the
+virtuous and dutiful, and hated him above all the rest for his air of
+conscious rectitude.
+
+Supper that evening offered no appeal to the drink-shaken carousers, but
+they stayed for it all the same, hoping against hope that the boss would
+come back and give them another chance. But they knew him too well to
+think it--Henry Lee would let his whole calf crop grow up to be
+mavericks before he would take back his word. Still they waited, and
+along toward sundown, as luck would have it, he came out; and with him,
+riding like a queen on her spirited horse, came Dixie May. She looked
+them over coldly, returning short answers to their shamefaced greetings
+and saving a smile for the cook.
+
+"Good-evening, Mr. Mosby," she said, pouring out a little coffee for
+politeness' sake. "And so these boys had to go on a drunk and get fired,
+did they? Well, you won't have so many to cook for now--that'll be one
+consolation."
+
+"Yes, Miss Dix," agreed the cook, "but mighty little, believe me! One
+cowboy is jest about as ornery an' no 'count as the other--and whisky
+gits 'em all. They're all alike--I been cookin' for 'em fer thirty
+years, off an' on, and they ain't one of 'em is worth the powder to blow
+'im to--excuse me, Miss Dix. But, as I was sayin', take 'em as they
+come, and keep 'em out of town, and these boys is pretty fair--pretty
+fair; I'm sorry to see 'em go."
+
+At this kindly word of intercession, a new light came into the eyes of
+the unemployed; but Dixie Lee had come on a mission, and it was not her
+policy to yield in a minute.
+
+"Well, _I'm_ not!" she declared. "If you'd listened to the amount of
+foolishness that I've suffered from these boys, Mr. Mosby; if you'd
+heard 'em say how they were going to save their wages and buy a little
+bunch of cows--and tell about the quarter-section of land they had their
+eye on--and swear, so help me God, they'd never take another drink of
+whisky as long as they lived--I believe you'd be glad to get rid of
+'em!"
+
+She turned and ran her eye over the crowd, and both the just and the
+unjust quailed before her.
+
+"And so you were drunk, were you, Mr. Atkins?" she inquired, fixing her
+gaze upon the deposed straw-boss; and Hardy Atkins shot a look at her
+which was both confession and appeal.
+
+"And you, Jack?" she continued severely.
+
+"Yes, ma'am," spoke up Happy Jack, upon whom the severity of her manner
+was lost. "I was drunk, all right."
+
+"Well, you don't need to be proud of it!" she observed cuttingly. "It's
+no distinction in this bunch. Brig, were you drunk, too?"
+
+"No, ma'am," responded Brigham promptly.
+
+"Oh, what's the use of talking?" scoffed Dixie, glancing at his swollen
+face and bloodshot eyes.
+
+"All the same, I wasn't!" denied Brigham boldly. "I reckon you'd look
+kind of bug-eyed if you'd been standin' guard all night!"
+
+"Well, what's the matter with your face then?" she demanded. "Did the
+ground rise up and hit you?"
+
+"No, but an old cow did, over in the shippin' chute!" And Brigham drew
+himself up and grinned defiantly. It was not often that he had a chance
+to assume this high moral pose, and he decided to make the most of it.
+
+"That's right," interposed Henry Lee, who so far had let his daughter do
+all the talking. "Brig and Bowles stood guard all night and brought up
+the remuda in the morning. I won't forget that, Brig," he added
+significantly. "I'm looking for men I can trust."
+
+"Well, good for you, Brig!" commented Dixie May, smiling with sudden
+approval; and at that the other suitors fell into a black rage of
+jealousy and distrust. There was silence for a while, and then Happy
+Jack spoke up.
+
+"Mr. Lee," he said, "I know I was drunk last night--my own fault, of
+course--but here's the proposition. You got to take on somebody to do
+yore work; what's the use of hirin' these town bums when you can git
+yore old hands back? That's the way we stand, and I hope you'll give us
+a chance."
+
+This was a long speech for Jack, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as
+he waited for the answer. The rest of the unemployed rumbled their
+acquiescence to the statement and watched for some sign of weakening;
+but Henry Lee did not change his frown.
+
+"I'm looking for men I can trust," he said at last. "These boys here
+stayed in camp and were on hand to help with the shipping. Maybe some of
+them ain't quite as good cowboys as you are, but I can depend on them
+not to turn my remuda loose the first night I leave 'em alone, and I'm
+going to make them top hands. You fellows get the top mounts and
+forty-five a month," he added, glancing briefly at Brig and the faithful
+few, most of whom were nesters boys, and married men working for a
+stake; "and I want some more just like you."
+
+"But how about us?" inquired Happy Jack after a silence. "I'll take on
+for a green hand, myse'f--forty dollars--and ride bronks, too. And I
+know that upper range like a book!"
+
+"Sure!" murmured the rest; and once more they waited on Henry Lee.
+
+He sat for a while studying on the matter, and then he exchanged glances
+with his daughter.
+
+"If he takes you back, are you going to run it over these other hands
+and make a lot of trouble?" she inquired shrewdly. "Because if you
+are----"
+
+A chorus of indignant denials answered this unjust accusation, and Dixie
+Lee's face became clear.
+
+"Then I'd take 'em back," she said.
+
+"No, I won't do it," rapped out Henry Lee. "But I'll tell you what I
+will do," he went on, as the gang lopped down despondently. "You boys
+have got your time checks. All right, you go up town and cash them in,
+and if you can pay your saloon debts and get out of town sober, I'll
+take you on. But if any man takes a drink, or brings out a bottle, he'll
+never ride for Henry Lee again--I've lost enough horses through drunken
+punchers. Brig, I'll leave you in charge of the outfit."
+
+He swung up on his horse as he spoke, and Dixie rode away after him,
+followed by the admiring gaze of all hands and the cook. Henry Lee was a
+good boss, but the average Texas cow-puncher is not weak-kneed enough to
+court the favor of any man. Once he is fired, he takes his money and
+spends it philosophically; but in this case Dixie May had intervened,
+and rather than lose their chance with her the whole gang had taken
+lessons in humility.
+
+"She's all right," observed Happy Jack, wagging his head and smiling as
+he watched her off. "She wraps him around her little finger."
+
+"Wonder how she come to be down here?" inquired a new hand; and Jack
+answered him, with a laugh.
+
+"Ridin' herd on the old man, of course!" he said.
+
+"Sure!" grumbled Hardy Atkins. "The old lady is up there, too. That's
+the one thing I got ag'inst Henry Lee--he's been a booze-fighter and
+quit. That's what makes him so doggoned onreasonable!"
+
+"They say John B. Gough and Sam Jones was reformed drunks, too,"
+commented Poker Bill sagely; but there was one member present who did
+not take even a philosophical interest in the discussion. It was Brigham
+Clark, the new straw-boss. Through a chain of circumstances a little
+hard to trace, he had refrained from his customary periodical, and,
+behold, of a sudden he was elevated above all his fellows, and placed in
+a position of authority.
+
+"Well," he broke in sharply, "it's gittin' dark--who's goin' to relieve
+that horse wrangler? Bill? Buck? Well, I'll put you on the first guard,
+anyhow--only way to save you from yorese'ves!"
+
+"Aw, listen to the big fat stiff!" commented Buck Buchanan, who felt the
+need of a nap; but Brig paid no attention to his remarks.
+
+"You boys bring them in to the pen fer a drink," he ordered, with
+pompous circumstance, "and hold them out on yon flat. Who wants to stand
+second guard? Jim? Hank?" He craned his neck about as Hardy Atkins had
+done the night before; and Hardy, who had been thinking about other
+things, sat up with a sudden scowl.
+
+"Whar's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" demanded
+Brigham, imitating with roguish accuracy the broad Texas accent of his
+predecessor. "He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--comes
+from Texas, too. Mr. Atkins, I'll ask you and yore cotton-picker friend,
+Happy Jack, to kindly stand second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Sam
+and Slim fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand no guard!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AND HIS SQUIRREL STORY
+
+
+The upper range of the Bat Wing was a country by itself. To reach it
+they rode due north from Chula Vista, following an old road that had
+been fenced so many times that Gloomy Gus became discouraged. Twisting
+and turning, driving around through new-made lanes, or jerking a world
+of staples and laying the wire on the ground, he toiled on in the wake
+of the outfit, which was rounding up spare corners of the unfenced
+range. Behind him came the horse wrangler and his helper, doing their
+best to keep the remuda out of the barbed-wire, and jerking up more
+fence with their ropes than Gus laid down with his nail-puller.
+Certainly in that wide, windmill-dotted valley, the open range was a
+thing of the past. It was only thirty feet to water, and the nesters
+were settling everywhere.
+
+"One more day like that," observed Gloomy Gus as he threw together a
+late supper, "and I quit!"
+
+"Me too!" chimed in the wrangler; and the punchers felt much the same.
+
+"A few more years like this last," remarked Henry Lee, gazing gloomily
+out across his former estate, "and we'll all quit. But, thank God, they
+can't farm the Black Mesa."
+
+On the second day they turned east, crossing the boggy river and
+mounting up on a great plateau, and then Bowles saw why Henry Lee's
+remark was true. The Black Mesa was high and level, with a wealth of
+coarse grass on the flats and wooded hills behind; but hills and flats
+alike were covered with a layer of loose rocks that made the land a
+wilderness. Even the wagon road on which they traveled was a mere rut
+across the rock patch, and from a distance it looked like a ruined stone
+wall where the rocks had been thrown to both sides. And the rocks were
+black, a scorched, volcanic black, with square corners and uneroded
+edges that gashed at the horses' ankles. Deep-cut canons wound
+tortuously across the level mesa, their existence unsuspected until the
+rider stopped at their brink; and, hidden in their sullen depths, the
+scant supply of water was lost to all but the birds.
+
+Yet to the cowboys the landscape was cheering, for there was bunch-grass
+between the rocks and not a house in sight. It is hard to please
+everybody in this world, but cowboys are easily pleased. All they want
+is a good horse and plenty of swing room, and a landscape gardener
+couldn't make it better. To Bowles the lower valley had been a wild and
+unsettled country, but he found that even the Black Mesa was tame to
+these seasoned nomads.
+
+"Jest wait till I take you to the White Mountains," said Brig, as he
+rode by his side. "This country has all been fed off till they's nothin'
+much left but the rocks--no game nor nothin'. But the Sierra Blancas are
+different--that's them over that far ridge."
+
+He pointed at a filmy point of white, half lost between the blue of the
+pine-clad mountains and the blue of the sky beyond, and Bowles' heart
+leaped up at the sight. At last he was in the Far West--that strange,
+elusive country of which so many speak and which is yet so hard to
+find--and the untrod wilderness lay before him. The Sierra Blancas, home
+of the deer and the bear and the wolf and the savage Apache Indians!
+Even in his age and time, there was still a wilderness to conquer and
+the terrors of the old frontier to stir the blood.
+
+"How far is it?" he inquired, his eyes questing out the way; and when
+Brig told him he reached over and clutched his hand. "Brig," he cried,
+"I want to go there. I'd like to go right now!"
+
+He looked across at his partner, but Brigham did not answer, and Bowles
+knew what was in his mind.
+
+"Of course, now that you're made foreman----" he began; but Brig smiled
+a cynical smile.
+
+"Don't you let that worry you none," he growled. "The way these Texicans
+is takin' on, I don't reckon I'll last very long. Hardy Atkins is the
+leader of this bunch, and he's bound to git his job back--I'm jest
+holdin' on fer spite."
+
+"But how can he get it back?" protested Bowles. "Mr. Lee told me you
+were one of the best cowmen he ever knew, and you certainly know the
+range all right----"
+
+"Yes, but that ain't it," put in Brig. "Here's the proposition. Henry
+Lee is gittin' old--he can't be his own wagon-boss forever, and he's
+lookin' round for a man. The man that gits the job will git more than
+that--he'll marry Dixie Lee."
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" cried Bowles. "Why should he?"
+
+"Don't know why," answered Brigham doggedly. "Only that's the way it
+always goes--and Hardy, he wants Dixie."
+
+"But surely, after the way he conducted himself down at Chula Vista----"
+
+"Oh, that's nothin'," asserted Brigham.
+
+"You think she would marry him?"
+
+"Don't know," grumbled Brig. "She's got us all a-guessin'. All I know
+is, I won't last long as a straw-boss. You wait till we git up in the
+mountains where old Henry can't git no more hands, and then watch the
+fur begin to fly. Didn't they all eat dirt to git took back fer green
+hands? Didn't you see 'em talkin' it over? All they got to do now is to
+git _us_ fired, and then _they'll_ be the top hands. Huh! That's easy!"
+
+The second-in-command would say no more, but a few days gave token of
+the coming storm. As they pulled in at the upper ranch, where cowboys
+and "station-men" did duty all the year, the stray men from other
+outfits threw in with them again and increased their number to a scant
+twenty. Bar Seven was there, after a return to his own headquarters, and
+several of the other men; but the men who dwelt in the hills were of a
+different breed, with hair long and beards scrubby, and overalls greasy
+from lonely cooking; and they looked at Bowles askance.
+
+"Who's that feller?" they asked; and the answer was always the same, if
+they asked it of a Texan.
+
+"Oh, that's a young English dude," they said. "He's got his eye on
+Dixie."
+
+Strange how these men of the frontier were so quick to read his
+heart--Bowles had talked with Dixie Lee only twice in a month but they
+had read him like a book. Or perhaps it was just plain jealousy, since
+they, too, had their eyes on Dixie--jealousy and a sneaking knowledge
+that he had a chance to win. They cast appraising glances at his
+expensive saddle, his silver-mounted spurs and eleven-dollar Stetson,
+and hated him for his prosperity; they watched him work in the corral,
+and scoffed at him for his horsemanship; and when he talked, they
+listened to his broad "a's," his soft "r's" and his purling "er's" with
+wonder and contempt. Not that they listened very much, for they took
+pains to break in on him as grown folks do when a child is speaking; but
+they curled their lips at his coming, and exchanged glances behind his
+back, and finally, as the work progressed, their hostility began to take
+form.
+
+For three days the outfit lay at headquarters while fresh horses were
+caught and shod; and here Hardy Atkins and his followers suffered the
+humiliation of losing their mounts. As top hands they had taken the pick
+of the remuda, the fleetest runners, the gentlest night horses, the
+best-reined cutting horses; but now in the reapportionment they found
+themselves reduced to "skates and bronks." Three days of shoeing the
+skates, and especially the bronks, did not tend to sweeten their tempers
+any, and as they moved up to Warm Springs and began to rake the range
+the spirit of rebellion broke loose.
+
+Warm Springs lies at the bottom of a gash in the face of the mesa, and
+the cow-trails lead to it for miles. Above there is no water, below it
+is shut in by the rim of the canon, and the cattle file down the long
+trail day and night. Consequently the nearby grass is fed down to the
+roots, and the remuda had to be held up on the high mesa. All day the
+horse wrangler grazed his charges in distant swales, bringing them in
+for water and the horse-changing morning and noon; and at night the
+cowboys watched them beneath the cold stars--that is, when they kept
+awake.
+
+On the second morning three horses were missing, the next day two more,
+and on the next eight horses more were gone and several men were
+practically afoot.
+
+"Who let those horses get away?" demanded Henry Lee, as he rounded up
+his night herders by the corral.
+
+"Not me!" said the members of the first guard.
+
+"We never stopped ridin'," said the second guard.
+
+"They was gone when we come on," said the third guard.
+
+And the fourth guard swore they were innocent.
+
+"Well, somebody's been asleep--that's all I know!" said Henry Lee; and
+he sent off two mountain men on their best mounts to trail the runaways
+down and bring them back. Then he listened to the mutual recriminations
+of the night herders, and guessed shrewdly at who was at fault. For when
+the night herders get to quarreling among themselves, waking each other
+up ahead of time, and sleeping on one hand till it slips and wakes them
+up, that is a sure sign and precursor of greater troubles to come, and
+it calls for an iron hand. Even as he was listening, a row broke out in
+the round corral, where the cowboys were roping their mounts.
+
+"Turn that hawse loose!" roared Brigham, suddenly mounting up on the
+fence.
+
+"I will not!" retorted the voice of Hardy Atkins from within.
+
+"He belongs to my mount!" protested Brigham with appropriate oaths.
+
+"I don't care whose mount he belongs to!" snarled the ex-straw-boss,
+dragging the horse out by the neck. "You top hands mash yore ear all
+night and let my hawses drift--and then expect me to walk. You bet yore
+boots that don't go--I'll take the best I can find. You can't put _me_
+afoot!"
+
+"I'll put you on yore back," rumbled Brigham, dropping truculently down
+from his perch, "if you try to git gay with me. You may be from Bitter
+Crick, Texas, but you got to whip me before you break into my mount!"
+
+"Well, he's got the Bat Wing brand on 'im," sulked Atkins; "that's all I
+know. And as long as they's a hawse left in the remuda----"
+
+"Here, here!" said Henry Lee, walking in on the squabble. "What's all
+this about? What are you doing with Brig's hawse, Hardy? Why don't you
+ride your own?"
+
+"Well, these hyer nester kids and Mormons went to sleep on guard and let
+my top hawses pull--now I got nothin' but bronks to ride!"
+
+"Well, ride 'em, then!" commanded Henry Lee severely. "And, another
+thing, Mr. Atkins! Next time you've got a grievance, come to me--don't
+try to correct it yourself!"
+
+He regarded his former straw-boss with narrowing eyes, and Atkins roped
+out a bronk; but in the evening he took the first occasion to pick a
+quarrel with Brigham. They were gathered about the fire in the scant
+hour between branding and first guard, and Brigham was telling a story.
+As was his custom, Henry Lee had pitched his tent to one side, for he
+never mixed with his men; and Brig had the stage to himself.
+
+"Well, you fellers talk about gittin' lost," he was saying; "you ought
+to be up in that Malapai country. We had a land-sharp along--claimed to
+know the world by sections--and he----"
+
+"Aw, what do you know about the Malapai country?" broke in Atkins
+rudely. "You cain't even lead a circle on the Black Mesa and git back to
+camp the same day! My hawse give out this mornin' tryin' to----"
+
+"Say," interposed Brigham peaceably, "you know what the boss said this
+mornin'--if you got any grievance, tell it to him. I'm tellin' these
+gentlemen a story."
+
+"A dam' lie would come nearer to it!" sneered Hardy, curling his lips
+with spleen; and at the word Brigham rose swiftly to his feet.
+
+"If you're lookin' fer trouble, Mr. Atkins," he said, taking off his hat
+and laying it carefully to one side, "you don't need to go no further.
+And if you _ain't_," he cried, suddenly advancing with blood in his eye,
+"you take back what you said, or I'll slap yore face off!"
+
+The astounding ease with which he got a rise out of his adversary seemed
+to take all the fight out of Hardy Atkins, and he mumbled some vague
+words of apology; but Brigham was hard to mollify.
+
+"Well, that's all right," he grumbled. "It ain't my fault if you go on a
+drunk and lose yore job, and it ain't my fault if the boss makes me
+straw--but don't you try to crowd me, Hardy Atkins, or I'll make you
+match yore words. The man never lived that can call me a liar and git
+away with it, and I'll thank you to let me alone."
+
+He went back and sat down by the fire, puffing and panting with the
+violence of his emotions; but as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire and
+no one interrupted his mood he fell into a cynical philosophy.
+
+"Mighty funny about these Tee-hannos," he said, glancing around at the
+respectful company. "They say, back in Texas, when a man gits where he
+can count fifty they set him to teachin' school--and when he can count
+up to a hundred he gits on to himse'f and leaves the cussed country.
+Ordinary folks kin only count to twenty--ten fingers and ten toes, like
+an Injun. It's sure a fine country to emigrate from."
+
+He looked about with a superior smile, and Buck Buchanan took up the
+cudgels for Texas.
+
+"They tell me, Brig," he said, "that them Mormons down on the river
+cain't talk no mo'--jest kinder git along by signs and a kind of
+sheep-blat they have."
+
+"Nope," answered Brigham; "they is sech people, but they don't live
+along the Heely. Them fellers you're thinkin' of is in the goat
+business--they don't say _baaa_, like a sheep; they go _maaa_ like a
+goat. I've heard tell of them, too. It seems they don't wear no
+pants--nothin' but shirts. They live on them goat ranches back in
+western Texas."
+
+He paused and looked around for appreciation, but only the nester kids
+smiled.
+
+"I was drivin' a bunch of strays down through that Mormon country one
+time," explained Buck Buchanan; "that's where I got the idee. That's a
+great country, ain't it, Brig? Lots of houses, too. I remember I stopped
+one time at a street crossin' and they was houses on all four corners.
+They was a lot of kids playin' around, and I asked one of 'em whose
+houses they were, and he says: 'My father's.'
+
+"'How comes yore father to have so many houses?' I says. 'Does he rent
+'em?'
+
+"'No, sir,' the kid says, 'he lives in 'em. Don't you know him? He's the
+bishop!'"
+
+A roar of laughter followed this brutal innuendo, but Brigham was not
+set back. His mind had become accustomed to all such jests.
+
+"Aw, you're jealous," he grunted, and let the Gentiles rage until, as
+the talk ran on, he gradually assumed the lead.
+
+"That's one thing you'll never find around a Mormon town," he began,
+still speaking with philosophical calm; "you'll never find no Texican.
+Of course, a Mormon has to work, and that bars most of 'em at the start;
+but, I dunno, seems like the first settlers took a prejudice ag'inst
+'em. I remember my old man tellin' how it come that way--course they
+must be mistaken, but the Mormons think a Texan ain't got no sense.
+
+"It seems the Mormons was the first folks to settle along the Heely, and
+my grandpaw was one of the leaders--he killed a lot of Injuns, believe
+me! But one day when he was gittin' kinder old and feeble-like, he got a
+notion in his head that he wanted a squirrel-skin, and so he called in
+my father and said:
+
+"'Son, you take yore rifle and go out and git me a gray squirrel; and be
+careful not to shoot 'im in the head, because I want the brains to tan
+the skin with.'
+
+"So my father he went up in the pines and hunted around; but the only
+squirrel he could find was stickin' his head over the limb, and rather
+than not git nothin' he shot him anyhow. Well, he brought him back to
+the old man and he said to 'im:
+
+"'I'm mighty sorry, Dad; the squirrels was awful scarce, and rather than
+not git any I had to shoot this one through the head.'
+
+"'Oh, that's all right,' the old man says. 'You got a nice skin anyway,
+and I reckon we can fix it somehow. I tell you what you do. They's a
+bunch of Texans camped down by the lower water--you go down and kill one
+of them, and mebbe we can use _his_ brains.'"
+
+Brigham paused and looked around with squinched-up, twinkling eyes; and
+at last Buck Buchanan broke the dramatic silence.
+
+"Well," he demanded roughly, "what's the joke?"
+
+"Well, sir," ran on Brig, "you wouldn't hardly believe it, but my old
+man had to kill six of them Texicans to git brains enough to tan that
+squirrel-skin! That's why they won't take 'em into the church."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE ROUGH-RIDERS
+
+
+Brigham Clark's squirrel-skin story was not calculated to build up the
+_entente cordial_ with Texas, but Brigham was no trimmer. The only kind
+of fighting he knew was to stand up and strike from the shoulder, and a
+few cracks about Mormon marital customs had not tended to lighten the
+blow. Numerically he was outnumbered by the Texans, but when it came to
+a contest of wits he did not need any help. He went off to bed now,
+laughing, and to all of Bowles' chidings he turned an unheeding ear.
+
+"Let 'em roar," he said. "It's no skin off my nose. Them fellers has
+been cavin' round and givin' off head long enough--I sure capped 'em in
+on that, all right. Well, let 'em rough-house me if they want to--they's
+two can play at that game. I never seen the Texan yet that looked bad to
+me. And if they git too gay the boss will fire the whole caboodle. I
+ain't lookin' fer trouble, but no bunch of ignorant Texicans can run it
+over _me_! Umph-umm!"
+
+So the feud went on, and when Dixie rode into camp with the mail she
+smelled war in the very air. The men walked past each other with the
+wary glances of fighting dogs, and even her little comedy at the
+delivering of the letters failed to visibly lighten the gloom. A private
+interview with the cook, who carefully kept out of the ruction and gave
+neither side comfort nor succor, revealed the fact that the situation
+was serious; and with the success of the round-up at stake, Dixie May
+was quick to act. When her father returned to his dog tent at
+supper-time he found her war-bag inside, and with a mount of horses cut
+out for her, Dixie Lee took on for a cowboy.
+
+They were up on the cedar ridges of the mountains now, driving down wild
+steers from the upper pastures, and a woman was as good as a man. Dixie
+was better than most, for she had ridden those rough mesas before and
+could drift off a ridge like a blacktail. Her desperate rivalry in the
+chase fired the hearts of the most malingering, and more than one
+moss-headed old outlaw found himself outgeneraled and flogged into the
+herd. And a steer is a steer these days--he is worth as much as a horse.
+
+Every morning as the punchers set out on the long circle Dixie May
+picked out a man to dare, and several prairie-bred Texans failed to
+follow her over the rocks. Mounted on the best horses in the remuda,
+knowing the ways of wild cattle and the lay of the land ahead, she took
+after the first puff of dust she saw and followed it till she smelled
+smoke. If her steer turned back, she ran him down and roped him, and if
+her escort did not show up by that time, she hog-tied her catch and went
+on. It was a wild, free life, and she threw herself into it recklessly,
+glorying in the unholy joy of beating them at their own game. She rode
+with Brigham, and Hardy Atkins; uncouth mountain men, and raw-boned
+nester kids; and finally, when the time was ripe, she picked out Bowles.
+
+Bowles was mounted on his top horse, Wa-ha-lote, and he rode proudly
+along behind Brigham, for in the rough and tumble of cross-country
+running he was holding his own with the best. A bunch of wild cattle
+sprang up suddenly from their hiding place on a far point; for a moment
+they stood staring, their ears silhouetted against the sky, and the keen
+eyes of the straw-boss read their earmarks like a book.
+
+"They's two Bat Wing steers in that bunch," he said. "Head 'em off,
+Bowles, and drive 'em down the canon!"
+
+Then Bowles leaned forward in his saddle and raced them for the high
+ground. He headed them, and they doubled to beat him back. Once more he
+headed them off, while the outfit went on with its circle, and just as
+they stopped to look him over again he saw a horse coming down on his
+right. It was Dixie, mounted on her favorite roan, and she motioned to
+him to swing around on the left. Then the riding began all over again,
+for the steers were wild as bucks and they knew every trail on the
+bench; but the shod horses were too fast for them over the rocks, and as
+their hoofs began to get hot from the friction they turned and dashed
+for the rim.
+
+From the high ridge where the circle was led, to the bottom canon where
+the hold-up herd lay, the land fell away in three benches, each a little
+narrower, each a little steeper at the jump-off--and Bowles and Dixie
+Lee went over the first pitch hot-foot on the heels of their quarry.
+They raced back and forth on the second terrace, trying to head the
+cattle down a natural trail; but now a wild, self-destroying panic came
+upon them and they took off over the rough ground.
+
+"I'll dare you to follow me!" cried Dixie, turning her eager roan after
+them; and helter-skelter over the rough rocks, swinging and ducking
+under trees and jumping over boulders and bushes, she went spurring
+after the cattle. Behind her came Bowles, his eyes big with excitement,
+staring at her madcap riding with the fear of death in his heart. Down
+over the rough jump-off they went, the dust and smoke from
+friction-burnt hoofs striking hot in their faces as they rode, and by
+the grace of God somehow they reached the bench below.
+
+"Don't ride over there!" he entreated, as the cattle scampered on toward
+the last pitch; but Dixie laughed at him, loud and shrill.
+
+"Will you take a dare?" she taunted, raising her quirt to strike; and
+before Bowles could say a word, Wa-ha-lote grabbed the bit and went
+after her like a rocket. Whatever his master thought, it was outside of
+Wa-ha-lote's simple code to let any horse give him his dust. Wild with
+terror and excitement, the big steers made straight for the jump-off,
+which was high and steep; over they went, with Dixie after them, and
+then, like a bolt from behind, Wa-ha-lote leaped over the rampart and
+went plowing down the slope. Twice he jumped as he came to dykes of
+rock, and Bowles stayed with him like a hurdler; then, with a lightning
+scramble over the loose stones, he took the trail from the roan and went
+pounding down the hill.
+
+Tree limbs reached down to brush Bowles off, sharp stubs threatened
+momentarily to snag his legs, and boulders to dash his brains out if he
+fell, but the lion-hearted Wa-ha-lote had asserted his mastery and
+Bowles could only hang on. At the bottom of the slide they crashed
+through a dead-limbed cedar, sending the bone-dry sticks flying in every
+direction; and when Bowles swung up into the saddle he was thundering
+across the flat and the steers were at his bits. Vague wisps of smoke,
+white and smelling like a blacksmith-shop, leaped up as the harried
+brutes skated over the rocks, and Bowles knew that his battle was won.
+Once in the soft sand of the creek bed they would never turn back to the
+heights, for their feet were worn to the quick. But it had been a hard
+race--even Wa-ha-lote was slowing down, and Dixie Lee was nowhere in
+sight.
+
+A sudden doubt assailed Bowles, and he tugged sharply at the bit; he
+pulled down to a walk and looked behind; then, as he saw no sign, he
+stopped short and let the cattle go. For a tense minute he listened
+while Wa-ha-lote puffed like a steamboat; then, with a grave look on his
+face, he turned and rode back up the hill.
+
+"O Miss Lee!" he shouted. "Dixie!"
+
+And a thin answer came from the slope above.
+
+"Catch my horse!" it said. "He's down in the gulch!"
+
+Bowles stared about and caught sight of the red roan's hide as he stood
+behind some trees; then, with his rope about its neck, he went spurring
+up the hill.
+
+Dixie Lee was lying very awkwardly among the rocks at the foot of a
+scrubby juniper, and at the first glance Bowles knew she was hurt. Not
+only was her hat gone and her stout skirt ripped and torn, but her face
+was very pale and her lips drawn tight together.
+
+"Horse fell with me," she said, greeting him with a fleeting smile;
+"hurt my knee right bad. First time I've known him to do that--say, help
+me out of these rocks."
+
+Very tenderly Bowles reached down and raised her to her feet; then, with
+one arm about his neck, she tried to hobble away, but at the second hop
+she paused.
+
+"Nope--hurts too bad," she said; "put me down."
+
+But Bowles did nothing of the kind. He took her up in his strong young
+arms and carried her down the hill. He even wished it were farther, but
+she spied a bed of leaves under a cedar and ordered him to put her
+there. Then she looked up at him curiously and for a while lay very
+still.
+
+"What you got there?" she inquired, as he came back holding his hat, and
+Bowles showed her a crownful of water that he had brought from a pool in
+the gulch.
+
+"Ah!" sighed Dixie, and drank out of it without scruple, long and deep.
+"Say, that's good," she said; "now pour some on my hands--they're all
+scratched up." He did that too, and loaned her his neck handkerchief to
+sop up the last of the wet.
+
+"Well, it's a wonder you wouldn't ask a few questions," she observed at
+length, bathing her grimy face with the handkerchief. "'How did it
+happen?' or 'How're you feeling?' or something like that!"
+
+She smiled naturally at him now, fluffing out her dark hair that hung
+like an Indian's in heavy braids; and Bowles' face lighted up and then
+flushed a rosy red.
+
+"I see you are feeling better," he said, sitting down off to one side,
+and decorously regarding his wet hat, "so how did it happen?"
+
+"Well," began Dixie, ruefully inspecting her torn hands, "all I can
+remember is feeling my horse going down and jerking my feet out of the
+stirrups--then I fetched up in that juniper. I scrambled out the minute
+I struck--afraid old Rufus would fall on me--and that's where I hurt my
+knee--I bumped it against a rock."
+
+She felt the injured limb over carefully and shook her head.
+
+"I'm afraid I can't travel on that for a while," she said. "So get me
+your coat to put under it and prop it up, and we'll talk about something
+pleasant. It'll be all right, I reckon, after I rest a while, but that
+fall certainly jarred me up.
+
+"Say," she observed, as Bowles came back with his coat, "that was pretty
+good, wasn't it, what I was telling you the other day--about nursing you
+back to health and strength. Looks like you're the nurse, the way it
+turns out. But you're going to make a good one," she went on, as he
+tucked the coat under her knee; "I can see that. Now, most people, when
+you get a hurt, or a fall, or something, they come rushing up to where
+you're making faces and ask a lot of foolish questions--'Are you hurt?'
+and 'Did you fall?' and all that, until you want to kill 'em. But you
+haven't hardly said a word."
+
+"No," said Bowles, blushing and looking away. "I'm awfully sorry you
+fell--hope I didn't make you. Is there anything more I can do?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "We all take a fall once in a
+while. I feel kind of weak and trifling right now--but don't go! No, I
+want you here for company!"
+
+Bowles had stood up on a pretext of looking after the horses, but Dixie
+was firm.
+
+"No, you stay," she said, as he explained that she might wish to be
+alone. "You're out West now, Bowles, and you remember what Hardy Atkins
+told you--'if a lady asks you to take a letter, _take it_!' Of course,
+that was none of Hardy's business, but that's the rule out here, and I
+want you to come back and sit down. No, not away over there--I want you
+right up close!"
+
+Bowles came back as readily as a dog, but he did not sit very close. For
+some reason unknown to himself he assumed that she would be embarrassed,
+not only by their isolated position but by the intimacies which had
+arisen between them. Moved by a strong and humane purpose, he had
+gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the hill; but hardly
+had he felt her arm about his neck, her breath against his cheek, and
+her heart against his breast, when the dimensions of his world had
+suddenly narrowed down, and there was only Dixie Lee and him. And now he
+was still dazed and breathless, afraid of himself, and not trusting in
+his strength--and yet he would do anything to please her.
+
+"Come on over here," she coaxed, patting the leaves by her side, and
+Bowles came as near as he dared. "Now tell me some stories," she said,
+settling back and closing her eyes. "Ah, this will be fine--tell me
+something interesting, so I can forget that knee. It sure aches--when I
+think about it--but I believe there's something in mind-cure. Go ahead
+and talk. Where'd you learn to ride so well?"
+
+"Oh, that?" beamed Bowles. "Do you think I can ride? Well, I'm not so
+bad, over the rocks, you know. I used to ride to the hounds. We chased
+foxes through the woods, leaping stone walls and five-bar gates and all
+that, and, really, I used to enjoy it. Nothing like cow-punching, of
+course, but great sport all the same. I remember once we were out at
+Clarendon----"
+
+He fell into the details of a fox hunt--the first time he had spoken of
+his past life--and Dixie was careful not to interrupt him. Then he told
+of his life in the military school, where they taught boys the
+cavalryman's craft, and Dixie lay quiet and listened. If her knee hurt
+she did not know it, for she was piecing out his career. School,
+college, country club, one after the other he alluded to them, but even
+in his boyish enthusiasm he was careful to mention no names; and as he
+wandered on with his stories Dixie Lee wondered who he was. Certainly no
+inconsiderable man in his own country, and yet here he was, an ordinary
+hired hand, punching cows for forty-five a month. But why? And if he had
+followed her to the end of the world to win her heart, why did he not
+talk of love to her, now that they were there together? And when he had
+taken her in his arms, when he had carried her under the tree and pulled
+off her boot and tucked his coat under her knee, why had there been no
+caress, no look, no unnecessary attentions to show that he really cared?
+Dixie May opened her eyes and gazed out at him through half-closed
+lashes, and somehow she liked him better--he seemed to be different from
+the rest.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," she said at last, "you're an awfully interesting man, but
+there are some things I can't understand. There's something mysterious
+about you. I know you must be all right, because I met you at Mrs.
+Melvine's, but at the same time you're hiding out like an ordinary
+horse-stealing Texican. What are you up to, anyway?"
+
+"Why, I thought you knew all about that," explained Bowles, the old
+baffling smile coming back into his eyes. "Don't you remember, I told
+you about it on the train?"
+
+"Yes, I remember, all right," answered Dixie. "But you didn't tell me
+very much--and then you told me different at Chula Vista. I thought I
+had a line on you once, but you're too deep for me. What's this I hear
+about a girl?"
+
+"A girl?" repeated Bowles, with questioning gravity. "Why, what do you
+mean? What did you hear?"
+
+"A girl back in New York," continued Dixie, glancing at him shrewdly as
+she hazarded a guess--and as she gazed he flushed and looked away.
+
+"Whatever you have heard," he said at last, "I have nothing to be
+ashamed of--would you like me to get you some water?"
+
+"Aw, Mr. Bowles," cried Dixie reproachfully, "are you trying to
+side-step me on this?"
+
+"No, indeed!" replied Bowles, settling back with masterful calm. "What
+is it you have heard--and what would you like to know?"
+
+He paused and regarded her expectantly, and Dixie saw that she was
+called. A shadow passed over her face; a shadow of annoyance, and of
+suspicion, perhaps, as well; but she felt the rebuke of his frankness
+and pursued her inquiry no further.
+
+"Well, perhaps you are right," she said, as if answering an unspoken
+reproof. "It was nothing to your discredit, Mr. Bowles; and I am sure it
+is none of my business. I guess I'm kind of spoiled out here--I get to
+joshing with these cowboys until I don't know anything else. I believe I
+would like that drink."
+
+Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hat
+full of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished and
+looked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You've
+been so good to me here--what have I gone and done now?"
+
+"Oh, it's not you at all," he assured her, and then his voice broke and
+he faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"
+
+"Why, no, Mr. Bowles," soothed Dixie, laying her hand on his arm. "Not a
+word--I don't know anything about you--I was only making it up."
+
+"Oh!" said Bowles, and drew his arm away. He looked out at the horses
+for a moment, poured the water out of his hat, and turned back, his old
+smiling self.
+
+"How is your knee now?" he inquired kindly. "Do you think you can ride?
+I suppose we ought to be going pretty soon."
+
+Dixie glanced over at him and her heart sank--she had observed these
+sudden changes in Bowles before, and even his boyish smile could not
+lighten the veiled rebuke. When Bowles had thoughts that were
+anti-social he was always unusually kind, and his way of expressing
+disapproval was to tactfully change the subject. And now he was talking
+of going! Dixie scowled and felt of her knee, and rose stiffly to her
+feet.
+
+"Well, if you're in such a hurry," she sulked; but Bowles was at her
+side in an instant.
+
+"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" he cried, catching her as she poised for a limp.
+"Please don't do that! Let me carry you, when the time comes, but we
+will rest as long as you please."
+
+He passed a compelling arm about her and lowered her gently to her
+place; then he sat down beside her, and breathed hard as he set her
+free.
+
+"Really," he murmured, "we don't seem to understand each other very
+well, Miss Lee!"
+
+"That's because neither one of us is telling the truth!" observed Dixie
+with a certain bitterness.
+
+They sat for a moment in silence, and then she turned about and looked
+him squarely in the eye.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," she said, in measured tones, "who are you, anyway?"
+
+"Who--me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you know
+me! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's."
+
+"There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name,
+and I'm----"
+
+"Yes?" questioned Bowles.
+
+"Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I've
+got _something_ on my mind."
+
+"Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I--I hope I haven't given
+offense in any way. You were hurt, you know--and I was a little
+excited--and----"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfect
+gentleman--I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do with
+women, have you, Mr. Bowles?"
+
+Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at her
+mystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, and
+decided to tell the truth.
+
+"Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't----"
+
+"Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was just
+thinking--well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then."
+
+She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and his
+brain whirled as he looked away.
+
+"No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, you
+know."
+
+"Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make an
+exception of you."
+
+He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went to
+do her will.
+
+"Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you while
+you mount?"
+
+"Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!"
+
+And then he gathered her into his arms.
+
+"I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him--and Dixie forgot
+and smiled.
+
+"Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that was
+to pay you for being nurse."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A COMMON BRAWL
+
+
+There is a madness which comes to certain people at certain times and
+makes them forget the whole world. In such a moment Bowles had stolen a
+kiss--for the first time in his life--and Dixie Lee had forgiven him. He
+had stolen it quickly, and she had forgiven him quickly, and then they
+had ridden on together without daring so much as a glance. That kiss had
+meant a great deal to both of them, and they needed time to think. So
+they rode down to the hold-up herd in silence and parted without a word.
+
+Dixie went on to camp, to rest and care for her hurts; and Bowles, with
+a sad and preoccupied smile, stayed by to help with the herd. But the
+jealous eyes of hate are quick to read such smiles, and as Bowles rode
+along on the swing he was suddenly startled out of his dreams. Hardy
+Atkins went out of his way to ride past him, and as he spurred his horse
+in against his stirrup he hissed:
+
+"You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!" and went muttering on his
+way.
+
+This roused Bowles from his reverie, and he began to think. If Hardy
+Atkins had noticed a change, there were others who would do the same.
+How Atkins had guessed, or what the clue had been, he could not tell;
+but, having been carefully brought up, Bowles knew exactly what he ought
+to do. Before the first rumor had run its course it was his duty as a
+gentleman to go to Henry Lee and make a report of the facts; then, if
+any exaggerated statements came to his ears later, Mr. Lee would know
+that his conduct had been honorable and that green-eyed envy was raising
+its hateful head. So, without more ado, he rode up to the point of the
+herd and saluted the austere boss.
+
+"Mr. Lee," he said, as that gentleman turned upon him sharply, "I am
+sorry, but Miss Lee had a very bad fall this morning and she has gone
+ahead to camp."
+
+"Yes, I saw her," returned the boss. "What about it?"
+
+"Well--I was afraid she might not mention it to you, or might minimize
+her hurts, but as a matter of fact she fell on a steep hill, and if it
+hadn't been for a juniper tree she might have been seriously injured. As
+it is, her knee gave her quite a lot of trouble and I had to help her to
+mount."
+
+"Oh!" commented Henry Lee, and glanced at him again. "Well, what is it?"
+he inquired, as Bowles still rode at his side.
+
+"Excuse me," stammered Bowles, holding resolutely to his task, "I
+thought perhaps you might want to ride ahead and help her off her
+horse."
+
+For a moment the boss looked him over, then he grunted and bowed quite
+formally.
+
+"Yes, thank you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Will you call Hardy to take my
+place?"
+
+He waited until Hardy Atkins had started, and then put spurs to his
+horse, and when the cowboys reached camp he was busy about the tent. The
+next day Dixie did not ride out on the round-up, and when they came back
+she was gone. "Back to the home ranch," the cook reported, and he added
+that she was not very lame; but the cow-punchers glared at Bowles as if
+he had crippled her for life. And not only that, but as if he had done
+it on purpose.
+
+"These blankety-blank tenderfeet!" commented Hardy Atkins by the fire.
+"They can make an outfit more trouble than a bunch of Apache Indians. I
+cain't stand 'em--it's onlucky to have 'em around."
+
+"I'd rather be short-handed, any time," observed Buck Buchanan sagely.
+
+"Now, there's Dix," continued Hardy, with a vindictive glance at Bowles;
+"worth any two men in the outfit--ride anywhere--goes out with this
+tenderfoot and comes within an ace of gittin' killed. She raced with me,
+rode with Jack and Slim, and left the Straw a mile--the Hinglishman
+comes in behind her, crowds her outer the trail, and if it hadn't been
+fer that juniper she'd a-landed in them rocks."
+
+Bowles looked up scornfully from his place and said nothing, but Brigham
+appeared for the defense.
+
+"Aw, what do _you_ know about it?" he growled. "You wasn't there. Who
+told you he crowded her out of the trail?"
+
+"Well, he says so himse'f!" protested Atkins, pointing an accusing
+finger at Bowles. "Didn't he come into camp and tell all about it? I
+believe that he was tryin' to do it so he could git a chance to----"
+
+"Mr. Atkins," said Bowles, rising to his feet and speaking tremulously,
+"I shall have to ask----"
+
+But that was as far as he got. With a tiger-like spring the ex-twister
+was upon him, and before he could raise his hands he struck him full in
+the face.
+
+"You will talk about my gal, will ye?" he shouted, as Bowles went down
+at the blow. "Stand up hyer, you white-livered Hinglishman; I'll learn
+you to butt in on my game!"
+
+"Here! What're you tryin' to do?" demanded Brigham, leaping up hastily
+and confronting his old-time enemy. "You touch that boy again, and I'll
+slap yore dirty face off!"
+
+"Well, he's been gittin' too important around hyer!" cried Atkins
+noisily. "And he's been talkin' about my gal--I won't take that from no
+man!"
+
+"Huh!" sneered Brigham, drawing closer and clenching his hands. "You're
+mighty quick to hit a man when he ain't lookin'--why don't you take a
+man of yore size now and hit me?"
+
+"I ain't got no quarrel with you!" raved Hardy Atkins. "That's the
+feller I'm after--he's been talkin' about my gal!"
+
+"He has not!" replied Brigham deliberately. "He never talked about no
+gal, and I'll whip the man that says so--are you bad hurt, pardner?"
+
+He knelt by the side of the prostrate Bowles, who opened his eyes and
+stared. Then he looked about him and raised one hand to his cheek, which
+was bruised and beginning to swell.
+
+"I'll learn you to cut me out!" taunted Hardy Atkins, shaking his fist
+and doing a war-dance. "I'll make you hard to ketch if you try to butt
+in on me!"
+
+"Aw, shut up!" snarled Brigham, lifting his partner up. "You're brave
+when a man ain't lookin', ain't ye? Here, ketch hold of me, pardner, and
+I'll take you to yore bed."
+
+Bowles dropped down on his blankets, still nursing his aching head; but
+in the morning he rose up with a purposeful look in his eye. He was a
+long way from New York and the higher life now, and that one treacherous
+blow had roused his fighting blood. For the courage which prompts a man
+to strike in the dark, he had little if any respect, and he went
+straight over to Hardy Atkins the moment he saw him alone.
+
+"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you hit me when I wasn't looking last night.
+Next time you won't find me so easy--but be so good as to leave Miss
+Lee's name out of this."
+
+"Oho!" taunted the cow-puncher, straightening up and regarding him with
+a grin. "So you want some more, hey? That crack on the jaw didn't
+satisfy you. What's the matter with yore face this mawnin'?"
+
+"Never you mind about my face," returned Bowles warmly. "If you are so
+low as to be proud of a trick like that, you are a coward, and no
+gentleman, and--put up your hands!"
+
+He squared off as he spoke, falling back upon his right foot and
+presenting a long, menacing left; but Hardy Atkins only laughed and
+loosened his pistol.
+
+"Aw, go on away," he said. "D'ye think I want to _box_ with you? No, if
+you git into a fight with me you're liable to stop 'most anythin'--I'll
+hit you over the coco with _this_!"
+
+He laid his hand on the heavy Colt's which he always wore in his shaps,
+and gazed upon Bowles insolently.
+
+"You can't run no blazer over me, Mr. Willie-boy," he went on, as Bowles
+put down his hands. "You're out West now, where everythin' goes. If
+you'd happen to whip me in a fist-fight I'd git my gun and shoot you, so
+keep yore mouth shut unless you want to go the limit. And while we're
+talkin'," he drawled, "I think you might as well drift--it's goin' to be
+mighty onhealthy around hyer if I ketch you with Dixie again."
+
+"I asked you to leave her name out of this," suggested Bowles, trying
+bravely to keep his voice from getting thin. "If you've got a quarrel
+with me, well and good, but certainly no gentleman----"
+
+"Aw, go on away from me," sneered Hardy Atkins, waving him wearily
+aside. "You seem to think you're the only gentleman in the outfit! Go
+chase yoreself--you make me tired!"
+
+The sight of grinning faces about the corral recalled Bowles to the
+presence of an audience and, choking with anger and chagrin, he went off
+to saddle his horse. Ever since his arrival Hardy Atkins had ignored
+him, glancing at him furtively or gazing past him with supercilious
+scorn. Now for the first time they had met as man to man, and in that
+brief minute the ex-twister had shown his true colors. He was a man of
+treachery and violence, and proud of it. He did not pretend to fair play
+nor subscribe to the rules of the game. He did not even claim to be a
+gentleman! There was the crux, and Bowles labored in his mind to find
+the key. How could he compete--in either love or war--with a man who was
+not a gentleman?
+
+It was Brigham who gave the answer, and to him it was perfectly simple.
+
+"Well," he said, as they rode back together from the circle, "he's
+warned you out of camp--what ye goin' to do about it?"
+
+"Why, what can I do?" faltered Bowles, whose soul was darkened with
+troubles.
+
+"Fight or git out," replied Brigham briefly.
+
+"But he won't fight fair!" cried Bowles. "He hits me when I'm not
+looking; then when I offer to fight him with my hands he threatens me
+with a pistol. What can a man do?"
+
+"Threaten 'im with yourn!" returned Brigham. "He won't shoot--he's one
+of the worst four-flushers in Arizona! He's jest runnin' it over you
+because he thinks you're a tenderfoot."
+
+"How do you know he won't shoot?" inquired Bowles, to whom the whole
+proposition was in the nature of an enigma. "What does he carry that
+pistol for, then?"
+
+"Jest to look ba-ad," sneered Brigham, "and throw a big scare into
+strangers. _I_ ain't got no six-shooter, and he don't run it over me,
+does he? He's afraid to shoot, that's what's the matter--he knows very
+well the Rangers would be on his neck before he could cross the line.
+Don't you let these Texicans buffalo you, boy--the only time they're
+dangerous is when they're on a drunk."
+
+"Then you mean," began Bowles hopefully, "if I'd struck him this morning
+he wouldn't have used his gun?"
+
+"Well," admitted Brig, "he might've drawed it--and if you'd whipped him
+he might've taken a shot at you. But you got a gun too, ain't you?"
+
+"Ye-es," acknowledged Bowles; "but I don't want to kill a man. I
+wouldn't like to shoot him with it."
+
+"Well, then, for Gawd's sake, _take it off_!" roared Brigham. "If he'd
+shot you this mornin' he could a got off fer self-defense! Turn it over
+to the boss and tell him you don't want no trouble--then if Hardy shoots
+you he'll swing fer it!"
+
+"But how about me?" queried Bowles.
+
+"You're twice as likely to git shot anyway," persisted Brig, "with a gun
+on you. If you got to pack a gun, leave it in yore bed, where you can
+git it if you want it; but if the other feller sees you're heeled, and
+he's got a gun, it makes him nervous, and if you make a sudden move he
+plugs you. But if you ain't armed he don't dare to--they're awful strict
+out here, and these Rangers are the limit. Hardy won't shoot--you ain't
+afraid of 'im, are you?"
+
+"No-o," said Bowles; "not if he'd fight fair."
+
+"D'ye think you could whip 'im?" demanded Brigham eagerly.
+
+"I can try," responded Bowles grimly.
+
+"That's the talk!" cheered Brigham, leaning over to whack him on the
+back. "Stand up to 'im! He's nothin' but a big bluff!"
+
+"I don't know about that," grumbled Bowles, with the affair of the
+morning still fresh in mind; "I'm afraid he'll hit me with his gun."
+
+"Well, here, we'll fix that," said Brig, hastily stripping the heavy
+quirt from his wrist. "You turn yore pistol over to the boss and take
+this loaded quirt--then if Hardy offers to club you with his gun you
+knock his eye out with _this_!"
+
+He made a vicious pass into the air with the bludgeon-like handle,
+holding the quirt by the lash, and passed it over to Bowles.
+
+"Now you're heeled!" he said approvingly. "That's worse'n a gun, any
+time, and you kin hit 'im as hard as you please. Jest hang that on yore
+wrist, where it'll be handy, and turn that cussed six-shooter in."
+
+The matter was still a little mixed in Bowles' mind, and he felt that he
+was treading upon new and dangerous ground, but his evil passions were
+still afoot and he longed gloomily for his revenge. So when they got
+into camp that evening he went over to Henry Lee's tent, with Brigham to
+act as his witness.
+
+"Mr. Lee," he said, speaking according to instructions, "I've had a
+little difficulty with one of the boys, and I'd like to turn in my gun.
+I don't want to have any trouble."
+
+"All right, Mr. Bowles," answered the boss very quietly. "Just throw it
+on my bed. What's the matter, Brig?"
+
+"Oh, nothin' much," replied Brigham. "You saw it yorese'f--last night."
+
+"Um," assented Henry Lee, glancing for a moment at Bowles' skinned
+cheek. "Well, we don't want to have any racket now, boys--not while
+we've got these wild cattle on our hands--and I'm much obliged. Hope you
+don't have any more trouble, Mr. Bowles."
+
+He bowed them out of the tent without any more words, and they proceeded
+back to the camp. A significant smile went the rounds as Bowles came
+back from the tent, but in the morning he went to the corral as usual.
+
+"I thought you'd got yore time," ventured Buck Buchanan, as Bowles began
+to saddle up; and as the word passed around that he had not, Hardy
+Atkins rode over to inquire.
+
+"What's this I hear?" he said. "I thought you was goin' to quit."
+
+"Then you were mistaken, Mr. Atkins," answered Bowles politely. "I am
+not."
+
+"Then what did you see the boss fer? Makin' some kick about me?"
+
+"Your name was not mentioned, Mr. Atkins," replied Bowles, still
+politely. "I simply turned over my gun to Mr. Lee and told him I'd had
+some trouble."
+
+"Well, it's nothin' to what you _will_ have!" scowled the ex-twister
+hatefully. "I can tell you that! And I give you till night to pull. If
+you don't----"
+
+He paused with meaning emphasis and turned his horse to go, but Henry
+Lee had been watching him from a distance and now he came spurring in.
+
+"Hardy," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave Bowles strictly alone.
+He's turned his gun in to me and is tending to his own business, so
+don't let me speak to you again. D'ye understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir!" mumbled the cow-puncher, fumbling sullenly with his
+saddle-strings; but his mind was not turned from his purpose, as Bowles
+found out that same night.
+
+They were swinging around toward the south and west, raking the last
+barren ridges before they started the day-herd for home; and in the
+evening they camped in the open and threw their beds down anywhere.
+After a hasty supper by the fire, Bowles spread out his blankets, coiled
+up his bed-rope, and rode forth to stand the first guard. For Bowles was
+a top hand now, whatever his enemy might say, and he had his choice of
+guards. It was very dark when he came in at ten-thirty, and he was too
+sleepy to notice the change, but after he had slipped under his
+tarpaulin he felt something through the bed. It was his bed-rope,
+stretched carelessly across the middle, from side to side, and he
+grumbled for a moment to himself as he squirmed down where it would not
+hurt him. Then he went to sleep.
+
+After a man has ridden hard all day and stood his guard at night, a
+little thing like a rope under his bed is not likely to disturb his
+dreams--the way the pea did the soft-sleeping True Princess--but with
+this particular rope it was different. Hardy Atkins had stretched it
+there with malice aforethought; and when, later in the night, he saddled
+his snorting night horse and prepared to ride out to the herd, he tied
+the two ends into a loop and silently stepped away with the slack. Then
+he took a turn around the horn, put spurs to his horse, and went
+plunging out into the night.
+
+A sudden yank almost snapped Bowles in two in the middle; he woke up
+clutching, to find himself side-swiping the earth; then an agonizing
+series of bumps and jolts followed, and he fetched up against a juniper
+with a jar that rattled his teeth. There was a strain, a snap, and as
+the rope parted he heard a titter, and a horse went galloping on. It was
+a practical joke--Bowles realized that the moment he woke up--but the
+terror of that first grim nightmare wrenched his soul to the very
+depths. He came to, cursing and fighting, still bound by the loop of the
+lariat and half-buried in the wreck of the juniper. Then he jerked
+himself loose and sprang up, staring about in the darkness for some
+enemy that he could kill. The titter of the galloping horseman gave the
+answer, and he knew it was Hardy Atkins. Hardy had given him till
+nightfall to quit camp or look out for trouble. This was the trouble.
+
+Bowles spread out his bed as best he could and slept where he lay till
+dawn. Then he went to Henry Lee and said he would like his gun. His
+hands were bloody and torn from contact with the brush, and there was a
+fresh welt above one eye that gave him a sinister leer. There was no
+doubt about it--Bowles was mad--and after a cursory glance the boss saw
+he was out for blood.
+
+"Just a moment, Mr. Bowles," he said, advancing to the fire. "Boys," he
+continued, addressing the smirking hands who stood there, "I make it a
+rule on my round-ups that nobody carries a gun. That includes you, too,
+Mr. Bowles," he added meaningly. "Mosby, get me a gunny-sack."
+
+With the gunny-sack under one arm the wagon-boss went the rounds, and
+when he had finished his trip the sack was full of guns.
+
+"I'll just keep these till we get back to the ranch," he observed.
+"And," he added, "the next man that picks on Bowles will have to walk to
+town. Hardy, were you in on this?"
+
+"No, sir!" replied Atkins stoutly. "I don't know a thing about it!"
+
+"Well, be mighty careful what you do," charged Henry Lee severely.
+"Brig, throw that herd on the trail--we might as well hit for the
+ranch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE DEATH OF HAPPY JACK
+
+
+When Bowles rode back to the Bat Wing Ranch he was a hard-looking
+citizen. His aunt, the hypothetical Mrs. Earl-Bowles, would scarcely
+have recognized him; Mrs. Lee started visibly at sight of his battered
+face; and Dixie smiled knowingly as she glanced at his half-closed eye.
+
+"Aha, Mr. Man," she said, "it looks like you'd been into a juniper,
+too!"
+
+"Well, something like that," acknowledged Bowles, gazing lover-like into
+her eyes; and from that he led the conversation into other channels,
+less intimately associated with common brawls. For though Bowles had
+given way to his evil passions and had even gone so far as to call for
+his gun in order to beard his rival, he did not wish it known to his
+lady. As he contemplated her grace in a plain white dress, and the
+witchery of her faintest smile, it seemed indeed a profanation of the
+sacred Temple of Love to so much as allude to a fight. Undoubtedly in
+the wooings of the stone age the males had competed with clubs, but
+certainly for no woman like this. Love, as Bowles had learned it from
+the poets, was above such sordid scenes; and as he had learned it from
+her--when she had chastened his soul with a kiss--ah, now he could sing
+with old Ben Jonson and the deathless Greeks:
+
+    "Drink to me only with thine eyes,
+      And I will pledge with mine;
+    Or leave a kiss within the cup,
+      And I'll not ask for wine."
+
+Here was the shrine at which he worshiped, and he wished no carnal
+thought to enter in. So he spoke to her softly and went his way, lest
+some one should read his heart and break the spell with jeering.
+
+The dust of a day's hard driving was on his face; there was a red weal
+over one eye and a bruise on his bearded cheek, but he was a lover
+still. Dixie knew it by his eyes, that glowed and kindled; by his voice,
+whose every word veiled a hidden caress; and she greeted the others
+coldly from thinking of this one who had come. Then she dissembled and
+went down among them, but her ways were changed and she only smiled at
+their jests.
+
+"Hey, Dix," challenged Hardy Atkins at last, thrusting a grimy hand down
+into his shap pocket, "look what I got fer ye!"
+
+He drew out a money-order ring that he had won in a mountain poker game,
+and flashed the stone in the sun.
+
+"It's a genuwine, eighteen-carat diamond," he announced. "Come over hyer
+and let's see which finger it fits. If it fits yore third finger, you
+know----"
+
+"Well, I like your nerve," observed Dixie Lee, smiling tolerantly with
+Gloomy Gus. "'Come over hyer!' eh? It's a wonder you wouldn't come over
+here--but I don't want your old ring, so don't come."
+
+"W'y, what's the matter?" inquired Hardy Atkins, who loved to do his
+courting in public. "You ain't goin' back on me, are you, Dix?"
+
+"Well, if I went very far back on _your_ trail," answered Dixie, "I
+reckon I'd find where you _got_ that ring. What's the matter? Wouldn't
+she have it? Or did that other girl give it back?"
+
+She turned away with a curl on her lips, and when he saw that she meant
+it, Hardy Atkins was filled with chagrin. From a man now, that would be
+a good joke; but from Dixie--well, somebody must have blabbed! He turned
+a darkly inquiring eye upon Bowles, and looked no farther; but Henry Lee
+had spoken, and all that rough work was barred. Still there were ways
+and ways, and after thinking over all the dubious tricks of the cow camp
+he called in his faithful friends and they went into executive session.
+
+"Now, hyer," expounded the ex-twister, as they got together over the
+butchering of a beef, "the way to bump that Hinglishman off is to make a
+monkey of 'im--skeer 'im up and laugh 'im out o' camp. He's so stuck on
+himse'f he cain't stand to be showed up--what's the matter with a fake
+killin'? Here's lots of blood."
+
+He cupped up a handful of blood from the viscera of the newly killed
+beef, and his side partners chuckled at the thought.
+
+"Let me do the shootin', and I'll throw in with ye," rumbled Buck
+Buchanan.
+
+"I'll hold the door on 'im," volunteered Poker Bill.
+
+"Well, who's goin' to play dead?" grinned Happy Jack. "Me? All right.
+Git some flour to put on my face, and watch me make the fall--I done
+that once back on the Pecos."
+
+So they laid their plans, very mysteriously, and when the big poker game
+began that night there was no one else in on the plot. Buck had the
+pistol he had killed the beef with tucked away in the slack of his belt;
+Jack had changed to a light shirt, the better to show the blood; and
+Hardy Atkins was a make-up man, with bottled blood and a pinch of flour
+in his pockets to use when the lights went out.
+
+The game was straight draw poker, and the prize a private horse. Ten
+dollars apiece was the price of a chance, and it was freeze-out at
+four-bits a chip. That served to draw the whole crowd, and as the
+contest narrowed down to Buck Buchanan and Happy Jack, the table was
+lined three deep.
+
+"How many?" asked Buck, picking up the deck.
+
+"Gimme one!" said Jack, and when he got it he looked grave and turned
+down his hand, the way all good poker players do when they have tried to
+fill a flush and failed.
+
+"I bet ye ten!" challenged Jack.
+
+"Go you--and ten more!" came back Buck.
+
+"Raise ye twenty!"
+
+"What ye got?" demanded Buck, shoving his beans to the center, and then,
+with a sudden roar, he leaped up and seized the stakes. "Keep yore hands
+off that discyard!" he bellowed, hammering furiously on the table. "You
+lie, you----"
+
+_Whack!_ came Happy Jack's hand across his face, and Buchanan grabbed
+for his gun. Then, as the crowd scattered wildly, he thrust out his
+pistol and shot a great flash of powder between Happy Jack's arm and his
+ribs.
+
+"Uh!" grunted Jack, and went over backward, chair and all.
+
+Then Hardy Atkins blew out the lamp, and the riot went on in the dark.
+Bowles was only one of ten frantic punchers who struggled to get out the
+door; Brigham Clark was one of as many more who burrowed beneath the
+beds; and when Hardy Atkins lit the lamp and threw the dim light on
+Happy Jack's wan face he was just in time to save his audience. True,
+the older punchers had been in fake fights before; but they had been in
+real ones, too--where the bullets flew wide of the mark--and this had
+seemed mighty real. In fact, if one were to criticize such a finished
+production, it was a little too real for the purpose, for the conduct of
+Bowles was in no wise different from the rest. There had been a little
+too much secrecy and not quite enough team-work about the play, but
+Poker-face Bill was still at his post and the victim was caught in the
+crowd.
+
+"Oh, my Gawd!" moaned Hardy Atkins, kneeling down and tearing aside
+Jack's coat. "Are you hurt bad, Jack?"
+
+The red splotch on his shirt gave the answer, and the room was silent as
+death. Then Poker Bill began to whisper and push; delighted grins were
+passed and stilled; and, moving in a mass, with Bowles up near the
+front, the crowd closed in on the corpse.
+
+"He's dead!" rumbled Buck Buchanan, making a fierce gesture with his
+pistol. "I don't make no mistakes. You boys saw him cheat," he went on,
+approaching nearer to the crowd. "And he slapped me first! You saw that,
+didn't you, Bowles?"
+
+"Oh, hush up!" cried Hardy Atkins, tragically shaking his fallen friend;
+and then as he worked up to the big scene where Happy Jack was to come
+to life and run amuck after Bowles, the door was kicked open and gloomy
+Gus strode in.
+
+"What's the matter with you fellers?" he demanded, his voice trembling
+with indignation at the thought of his broken sleep, and then, at sight
+of Jack, he stopped.
+
+"Jack's dead," said Hardy Atkins, trying hard to give Gus the wink; but
+the cook was staring at the corpse. Perhaps, being roused from a sound
+sleep, his senses were not quite as acute as usual; perhaps the
+play-acting was too good; be that as it may, his rage was changed to
+pity, and, he took the center of the stage.
+
+"Ah, poor Jack!" he quavered, going closer and gazing down upon him.
+"Shot through the heart. He's dead, boys; they's no use workin' on
+'im--I've seen many a man like that before."
+
+"Well, let's try, anyway!" urged Atkins, in a desperate endeavor to get
+rid of him. "Go git some water, Gus! Haven't you got any whisky?"
+
+"Oh, he's dead," mourned the cook; "they's no use troublin' him--it's
+all over with poor old Jack. You'll never hear _him_ laugh no more."
+
+A faint twitch came over the set features of the corpse at this, and
+Hardy Atkins leaped desperately in to shield his face.
+
+"He was a good-hearted boy," continued Gloomy Gus, still intent upon his
+eulogy--and then Happy Jack broke down. First he began to twitch, then a
+snort escaped him, and he shook with inextinguishable laughter. A look
+went around the room, Brigham Clark punched Bowles with his elbow and
+pulled him back, and then Gus glanced down at the corpse. His peroration
+ceased right there, and disgust, chagrin, and anger chased themselves
+across his face like winds across a lake; then, with a wicked oath, he
+snatched the gun away from Buck and struggled to get it cocked.
+
+"You young limb!" he raved, menacing Happy Jack with the pistol and
+fighting to break clear of Buck. "You'll play a trick on me, will ye--an
+old man and punched cows before you was born! Let go of that gun, Mr.
+Buchanan! I'll show the blankety-blank----" And so he raged, while the
+conspirators labored to soothe him, and Brig dragged Bowles outside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+A CALL
+
+
+There is a regrettable but very well defined tendency in human nature
+which prompts the author of a miss-fire revenge to take it out on the
+dog. Certainly there was no more innocent party to the inveigling of
+Gloomy Gus than Bowles, and yet for some reason Hardy Atkins and his
+comrades in crime chose to gaze upon him with a frown. After laboring
+far into the night they had finally persuaded the cook that it was all a
+mistake; that no insult was intended to his years; and that it would be
+contrary to those high principles of Southern chivalry of which he had
+always been such an illustrious exponent to report the fake fight to the
+boss. Then they had busied themselves in the early morning with chopping
+wood and packing water, and similar ingratiating tasks, with the result
+that, when Henry Lee came down after breakfast, there was no complaint
+from anybody. But when he had let it pass, and started off for Chula
+Vista, it was cloudy in the south for Bowles.
+
+But your true lover, with the wine of ecstasy in his veins, and haunting
+feminine glimpses to catch his eye, is not likely to be scanning the
+horizon for a cloud the size of a man's hand. Bowles' troubles began
+that evening when, after an arduous day in the saddle, he returned to
+his own social sphere. For two months and more Samuel Bowles had been a
+cow-hand. He had slept on the ground, he had eaten in the dirt, and when
+luck had gone against him he had learned to swear. But now, as he was
+riding past the gate, Mrs. Lee, in a charming house-gown, had waylaid
+him with a smile; he paused for a friendly word, and his breeding had
+prompted him to linger while she chatted; then she had invited him to
+dinner--not supper--and he had forgotten his lowly part. Forgotten also
+was the warning of Hardy Atkins, now so sullen in his defeat, and
+everything else except the lure of dainty living and the memory of a
+smile. So, after a hasty shave and a change to cleaner clothes, he
+stepped out boldly from the ranks and walked up to the big white house.
+
+The chill and gusty days of early spring had passed and the soft warmth
+of May had brought out all the flowers. Along the gallery the
+honeysuckle and the Cherokee climbers were fragrant with the first
+blossoms of summer, and Bowles was glad to tarry beneath them when Mrs.
+Lee met him hospitably at the stoop. In the far west the Tortugas were
+passing through the daily miracle of sunset, and the hush of evening had
+settled upon all the land.
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Lee," sighed Bowles, as he contemplated with a poet's eye the
+beauties of nature, "now I understand how you can live here for thirty
+years and never go back to New York. Such illumination--such color! And
+from the hill here, it is so much more glorious! Really, in spite of the
+loneliness, I almost envy you those thirty years!"
+
+"Yes," admitted Mrs. Lee, leading him to a rawhide chair beneath the
+honeysuckle, "it _is_ beautiful. I like it--in a way--but still, I can
+never forget New York. It offers so much, you know, of music and art and
+society; and yet--well, Henry needed me, and so I stayed. But I have
+tried to give my daughter what advantages I could. I have a sister, you
+know, living in New York--Mrs. Elwood Tupper--perhaps you know her?"
+
+"Why, the name seems familiar," returned Bowles glibly.
+
+"Yes, she's my sister," resumed Mrs. Lee, after glancing at him
+curiously. "Dixie was with her all last winter--I thought perhaps you
+might have met her there?"
+
+Once more she gazed at him in that same inquiring way, and Bowles
+wondered if she had heard anything, but he was quick to elude the point.
+
+"Hmm," he mused, "Tupper! No, I hardly think so. When I return, though,
+I shall be glad to look her up--perhaps I can convey some message from
+you. Your daughter must find it rather close and confining in the city,
+after her fine, free life in the open. Really, Mrs. Lee, I never knew
+what living was until I came out here! Of course, I'm very new yet----"
+
+"Yes," agreed Mrs. Lee, who knew a few social sleights herself, "Dixie
+did complain of the confinement, but she----_O Dixie_!"
+
+"Yes, Mother!" replied a dutiful voice from within.
+
+"Come out on the gallery--Mr. Bowles is here. But she met some very nice
+people there--some of the real old families, you know--and I
+thought----"
+
+The door opened at this point, and Bowles leapt to his feet in
+astonishment. It was a different Dixie that appeared before him--the
+same bewitching creature who had dazzled his eyes at the Wordsworth
+Club, and she wore the very same gown. And what a wonderful
+transformation it seemed to make in her--she was so quiet and demure
+now, and she greeted him in quite the proper manner.
+
+"I was just telling Mr. Bowles, Dixie," continued Mrs. Lee, still
+holding to her fixed idea, "that you went out quite a little in New
+York--and perhaps you might have met back there."
+
+For a moment the two eyed each other shrewdly, each guessing how much
+the other had said, and then Bowles opened up the way.
+
+"Why, really, Miss Lee," he exclaimed, still gazing at her with admiring
+eyes, "you do look familiar in that dress! Perhaps we have met in a
+crush, like ships that pass in the night? May I ask at what function you
+wore this charming gown?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, Mr. Bowles," returned Dixie May; "but, rather than run
+over the whole list and recall a winter's agony, let's take it for
+granted that we met. It's a fine, large place to come away from, isn't
+it--dear old New York? Wasn't the slush of those sidewalks something
+elegant? And that steam heat! My! It never gets as hot as that out here.
+Yes, indeed, Mother, I'm sure Mr. Bowles and I have met before; but,"
+she added, and here her voice changed, "since he's traveling incognito,
+changing his name as a garment and not getting any letters from home,
+perhaps it's just as well not to dwell upon the matter."
+
+"Why, Dixie, child!" protested Mrs. Lee. "What in the world do you
+mean?"
+
+"Nothing at all, Mother, except that he is our guest. Shall we go in now
+to dinner?"
+
+They went in, and throughout the rest of the evening Bowles was guiltily
+conscious of a startled mother's eyes which regarded him with anxious
+scrutiny at first and then became very resolute and stern. Mrs. Lee had
+solved her problem, whatever it was, and settled upon her duty. Bowles
+felt a social chill creep into the air as he rose to go, and he braced
+himself for some ultimatum; but his hostess did not speak her thoughts.
+There was no further allusion to New York, or his alias, or the fact
+that he had acted a lie. All those things were taken for granted, and he
+left with a balked feeling, as if he had failed of some purpose. Her
+very silence clutched at his heart, and her passive hand-touch as they
+parted. Dixie, too, seemed to share in the general aloofness. She had
+said good-night without any friendly grip of the fingers, looking at him
+very straight, as if to fathom his deceit.
+
+Bowles lay awake that night and thought it out, and he saw where he had
+made his mistake. From the first his manner had been evasive almost to
+mendacity, and, with both Dixie and her mother, he had made a mystery of
+his past. Now the time for explanations was gone, and he was reaping his
+just reward. He should have taken Dixie into his confidence when they
+were alone beneath the cedars; he should have answered that question of
+hers when she asked it--but now it was too late.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," she had said, "who are you, anyway?"
+
+And when he had evaded her, she had never asked again. And now, through
+the same damnable ineptitude, he had estranged her mother and lost his
+welcome at the big house. All the explanations in the world would not
+square him now, for one deceit follows another and his second word was
+no better than his first. He could see with half an eye that Mrs. Lee
+distrusted him. He must seem to her candid mind no less than a polite
+adventurer, a ne'er-do-weel young profligate from the East with
+intentions as dark as his past. Nor could he bring himself to blame her,
+for the inference was logical--if a man conceals his identity and denies
+his acquaintances and friends, surely there must be something shameful
+that he is at such pains to hide.
+
+But the way out? That was what kept Bowles awake. Certainly, if he were
+a gentleman, he would stay away from the house. Nor would it be wholly
+honorable to waylay Dixie May and explain. And, besides, there was
+nothing to explain. He had references, of course, but if he gave them,
+his aunt would discover his whereabouts and summon him home--and then
+there was Christabel!
+
+The memory of those prearranged meetings at his aunt's swept over him,
+and he shuddered where he lay. Dear, pretty, patient Christabel! What if
+she should sense this conspiracy to make him marry her and lose that
+friendly smile? What if she should blush as he had blushed at each
+chance tete-a-tete, gazing nervously into his eyes to guess if he would
+yield? And to wonder if that was love! Ah no, he could never do that!
+Rather than inflict such torture upon her he would flee to the depths of
+the wilderness and hide until she was married. But his safety lay only
+in flight, for his aunt was a resolute woman, with tears and sighs at
+her command, if all else failed. Yes, he must run away--that was the way
+out.
+
+And it would solve all his problems at once. There would be no lame
+explanations to make at the house, no cheap jealousies with Hardy
+Atkins, no breaking of his cherished dream of seeing the West. He would
+move on into the White Mountains and explore their fastnesses with
+Brigham. Or, lacking Brigham, he would plunge into that wilderness
+alone.
+
+The harsh clangor of Gloomy Gus's dishpan cut short his fitful sleep,
+and he rolled out of bed with his mind made up to quit. At breakfast he
+said nothing, bolting his food with the rest of them, and followed on to
+the horse corral for a private word with Brig. But right there fate
+played him a scurvy trick, and disrupted all his schemes, for as he
+stepped around behind the corral Hardy Atkins strode in upon him and
+made signs to certain of his friends.
+
+"Now, lookee here, Mr. Man," he said, and he said it quietly for once,
+"you been four-flushin' around hyer long enough, and we give you warnin'
+to git. We got yore record and we know what you're after, so don't hand
+us out any bull. Yore name ain't Bowles and you're aimin' at Dix, but
+she's got too many good friends. Now we've let you off easy, so far, but
+Gawd he'p you if we come ag'in. Ain't that so, boys?"
+
+"You bet it is!" answered three or four, and the rest of them looked
+their disdain.
+
+But an unreasoning anger swept over Bowles at the very first word, and
+he returned the sneer with interest.
+
+"Mr. Atkins," he said, "you have threatened me before, but I am not
+afraid of you. You cannot frighten me away."
+
+"Oh, I cain't, cain't I?" jeered Hardy Atkins, while his friends rumbled
+threats from behind. "Well, _poco pronto_ you're liable to change yore
+mind. You come into this country on a Hinglish trot and we thought you
+was a sport, but now that we know better, you got to make good or git.
+Ain't that so, boys?"
+
+"You bet it is!" roared the bunch, and Atkins hitched up his shaps.
+
+"All right," he said. "You got a job with this outfit by claimin' that
+you could ride. _Now_--you're so brave--either you ride that Dunbar
+hawse the way you said or we kick you out o' camp! You can take yore
+choice."
+
+"Very well," said Bowles; "I'll ride the horse."
+
+"Like hell you will!" sneered the gang in a chorus, but Bowles did not
+heed their words.
+
+"Any time you put the saddle on him," he said, "I'll ride him."
+
+At this they stood irresolute, unable to make him out. On the morning
+that he had ridden Wa-ha-lote he was a tenderfoot, not knowing one horse
+from another, but now he had seen the worst. And yet he would climb up
+on Dunbar!
+
+"Come on--let's rope 'im!" urged Hardy Atkins, but he did not move out
+of his tracks. "No, the boss is comin' back," he said. "Let's wait till
+we're hyer by ourse'ves. All right, Mr. Bronco-bustin' Bowles, we'll fix
+you good and plenty--the first time the folks leave the house. And
+meantime, if you value yore health, you better stay down on low ground."
+
+"I will go wherever I please," answered Bowles; but he stayed down on
+the low ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE HORSE THAT KILLED DUNBAR
+
+
+In the Homeric simplicity of the cow camps, where the primitive emotions
+still rule, any soul-stirring which cannot find its expression in curses
+is pretty sure to seek the level of laughter. The boys were profoundly
+moved by Bowles' declaration of intention, but after gazing upon him for
+a spell in mingled incredulity and awe, their lips began to curl.
+
+"Aw--_him_!" they said. "Him ride Dunbar? Umph-umm! We'll wake up some
+mornin' and find him gone!"
+
+Then, as a morning or two passed and Bowles was still in his place, they
+began to lapse into jest.
+
+"Old Henry will shore be s'prised when he comes back from town,"
+observed blithesome Happy Jack. "He'll find Bowles ridin' Dunbar with a
+hackamore and feedin' him sugar from his hand. Big doin's soon to come,
+boys--boss and family goin' down to Chula Vista to-morrer."
+
+"Well, we better hog-tie Hinglish, then," grumbled Buck Buchanan; "he'll
+never last till mornin'. Gittin' right close on to that time!"
+
+"Never you mind about Hinglish," retorted Brigham Clark, whose loyalty
+had been fanned to a flame. "If it was you, Buck Buchanan, we couldn't
+see you fer dust right now. They ain't a man of ye dares to _say_ he'd
+ride Dunbar, let alone the doin' of it. Will you ride him second if he
+throws Bowles off? Well, keep yore face shut, then! The whole bunch of
+ye ought to be canned fer tryin' to git 'im killed!"
+
+"Well, let 'im go on away, then!" burst out Hardy Atkins. "_We_ never
+told 'im to ride Dunbar--we told 'im to quit his four-flushin' and
+either make good or git. There's the road down there--let 'im take to
+it!"
+
+He jerked an imperious hand at Bowles, who answered him with a scowl.
+
+"If you will kindly mind your own business, Mr. Atkins," he purled, "I
+shall certainly be greatly obliged."
+
+He gave each word the Harvard accent and tipped it off with venom, for
+Bowles was losing his repose. In fact, he was mad, mad all over, and at
+every remark he bristled like a dog. A concatenation of circumstances
+had thrown him into the company of these Texas brawlers, but he aimed to
+show by every means in his power his absolute contempt for their
+trickery and his determination to stand on his rights. He had said he
+would ride Dunbar, and that was enough--he had given his word as a
+gentleman. Therefore, he resented their insinuations and desired only to
+be left alone. Certainly he had enough on his mind to keep him occupied
+without responding to ill-natured remarks.
+
+Fate was piling things up on poor Bowles, and he earnestly longed for
+the end. There is a cynic's saying that every time a man gets into
+trouble his girl goes back on him, just to carry out the run of luck;
+and while of course it isn't true, it seemed that way to Bowles. Perhaps
+his own manner had had something to do with it, but, the morning after
+his rebuff, Dixie greeted him almost as a stranger, and, falling back
+shortly afterward into her old carefree way of talking, she began to
+josh with the boys. Then she took a long ride with Brigham, a ride that
+left him all lit up with enthusiasm and made him want to talk about
+love. As a matter of fact, Dixie had sensed something big in the air and
+was anxiously ferreting it out, but Bowles did not know about that. All
+he knew was that he disapproved of her conduct, and wondered vaguely
+what her mother would say. Not that it was any of his business, but he
+wondered all the same; and, wondering, shook his head and sighed.
+
+But three days of flirting and sleuthing brought nothing to Dixie's net.
+From the cook down, the outfit was a solid phalanx against her--they
+would talk and smile but they never showed their hand. One clue and only
+one she had--there seemed to be an unusual interest in when she was
+going to town. First on one pretext and then on another they inquired
+casually about the date, and if her folks were going along too. So,
+whatever the deviltry was, it was something that called for secrecy--and
+it was due on the day they left home. She looked them over as they
+gathered about the evening fire, and smoothed her hair down
+thoughtfully--and the next morning she started for town.
+
+The sale of his steers was making Henry Lee a lot of trouble--and the
+holding of them as well. Not being able to find a buyer at his price, he
+set the cowboys to fence mending--lest the outlaws should breach the
+wires--and went back and forth to town. And this morning his wife went
+with him, sitting close behind the grays, with Dixie riding fast behind.
+Their dust changed to haze on the horizon before any one moved a hand,
+and then Hardy Atkins turned on Bowles.
+
+"All right, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Here's where we see yore hand. I'll
+saddle that hawse if you'll ride 'im, but don't make me that trouble fer
+nothin', because if you _do_----"
+
+"Oh, shut up!" snapped Bowles, whose nerves were worn to a frazzle.
+"What's the use of talking about it? Put the saddle on him!"
+
+"Holy Jehu!" whistled Atkins. "Listen to the boy talk, will you? Must
+have somethin' on his mind--what?"
+
+"Well, quit yore foolin'!" put in Brigham abruptly. "We'll all git fired
+fer this, and him liable to git killed to boot, so hurry up and let's
+have it over with!"
+
+"I'll go ye!" laughed the ex-twister, skipping off with a sprightly
+step. "Come on, boys; it'll take the bunch of us--but I'll saddle old
+Dunbar or die! 'O-oh, hit's not the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse's
+'oofs; hit's the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway!'
+E-e-e--hoo!"
+
+He laughed and cut another caper as he ended this bald refrain, and
+Brigham glowered at him balefully.
+
+"'Hit's!'" he quoted. "'_Hit's!_' Listen to the ignorant cracker! I
+never seen a Texican yet that could talk the straight U. S.! But go on
+now, you low-flung cotton-pickers, and I'll fix Bowles fer his ridin'!"
+
+They hustled away as he spoke, the best of them to wrangle Dunbar, and
+the rest to admire the sight. Here was an event that would go down in
+Bat Wing history, and only the cook stayed away. Life had been stale,
+flat, and unprofitable to Gloomy Gus since he delivered the oration over
+Happy Jack, and the very care with which all hands refrained from
+speaking of it showed how poignant the joke had been. Faces which had
+looked pleasant to him before were repulsive now, and in this last assay
+on Bowles he saw but a recrudescence of the horse-play which had worked
+such havoc with his own pride. Therefore, he was morose and sullen and
+stayed with his pots and pans.
+
+"I want to warn you, Mr. Bowles," he called, as Bowles came,
+full-rigged, from the bunk-house. "I want to give you warnin'--thet
+hawse is dangerous!"
+
+"All right, Mr. Mosby," answered Bowles absently, as he started for the
+round corral.
+
+"He done killed a man!" croaked Gloomy Gus. "A right good cow-puncher,
+too--I knowed him well. Jim Dunbar--the top rider of the outfit. Don't
+say I never warned you, now--keep off that hawse!"
+
+"All right, Mr. Mosby," responded Bowles, but he never missed a stride.
+The time had come to show himself a man, and, like an athlete who goes
+forth to win, his thoughts were on the battle.
+
+"You want to set him limber," reiterated Brigham in his ear. "Ride 'im
+like a drunk man, and whip 'im at every jump--it gives you somethin' to
+do. Grab 'im with yore spurs every time he lights; and look out he don't
+bite yore legs. Here, take my quirt--it's heavier--and if he starts to
+go over backwards, hit 'im hard between the ears. You kin ride 'im,
+pardner, I know it! Jest keep cool and don't get stiff!"
+
+"All right, Brig," muttered Bowles; "all right!" But his eyes were on
+the corral.
+
+A cloud of dust rose on the still morning air like smoke from some
+red-burning fire, and through the poles of the fence he could see horses
+running like mad, and men with trailing ropes. Then, as the stampede
+rose to a thunder of feet, he heard a shrill yell of triumph, and
+scrambling men jerked the bars from the gate. The current of galloping
+slackened, it paused, and the leaders shot out the gap with a sea of
+high-flung heads behind. When the dust of their outrush had settled,
+there was only one horse left inside--the horse that killed Dunbar--and
+he lay grunting in the dirt.
+
+"Fetch me that hackamore!" yelled Hardy Atkins from where he knelt on
+the brute's straining neck. "Now bring me that well-rope--we'll tie up
+his dad-burned leg!"
+
+They gave him the ropes as he called for them, and he rigged them with
+masterful hands--first the rough-twisted hackamore, to go over his head
+and cut off his breath; then the two-inch well-rope, to hang from his
+neck and serve later to noose his hind foot. Then all hands tailed on to
+the throw-rope; they swayed back as he rose to his feet; and when Dunbar
+went to the end of it, the heave they gave threw him flat. He leaped up
+and flew back on his haunches, and the rope halter cut off his breath.
+His sides heaved as he struggled against it; his eyes bulged big and he
+shook his head; then, with a final paroxysm, he sank to his knees and
+they slackened away on the rope. A single mighty breath, and he was up
+on his feet and fighting; and they choked him down again. Then Hardy
+Atkins stepped in behind and picked up the end of the shoulder rope,
+where it dragged between his legs, and drew the loop up to his hocks. A
+jerk--a kick at the burn--and Dunbar was put on three legs. He fought,
+because that was his nature, but it was in vain; they trussed his foot
+up high, tied the rope's end to the neck loop, and clapped a broad blind
+over his eyes. So Dunbar was conquered, and while he squealed and
+cow-kicked, they lashed Bowles' saddle on his bowed-up back and slipped
+the bit between his teeth.
+
+There he stood at last, old Dunbar the man-killer, sweating and
+trembling and cringing his head to the blind, and Bowles jumped down off
+the fence.
+
+"All right," he said, "you can let down his foot. I'll pull up the
+blinder myself."
+
+"Say yore prayers first, Mr. Man," gritted Atkins, lolling and mopping
+his face. "If he's half as good as his promise, you'll never git off
+alive!"
+
+"Very likely," observed Bowles grimly. "You can let his foot down now."
+
+"Hey! Git a move on!" yelled a cow-puncher up on the fence. "They's
+somebody comin' up the road!"
+
+"Aw, let 'em come," drawled Atkins carelessly. "They're hurryin' up to
+see the show. Step up and look 'im over!" he grinned at Bowles. "No
+rush--you got lots of time!"
+
+"Let his foot down!" snarled Bowles, his nerves giving way to anger.
+"I'm not----"
+
+"It's Dix!" clamored the cow-puncher on the fence-top. "It's Dix!"
+
+There was a rush for the fence to make certain, and as Dixie Lee dashed
+in through the horse lot, Hardy Atkins threw down his hat and cursed.
+Then he stood irresolute, gazing first at Bowles and then at the fence,
+until suddenly she slipped through the bars and came striding across the
+corral.
+
+"Oho, Hardy Atkins," she panted, as she tapped at her boot with a quirt.
+"So this is what you were up to--riding horses while Dad went to town!
+Didn't he tell you to keep off that Dunbar horse? Well, then, you
+just----"
+
+She paused as she sensed the tense silence, and then she saw Bowles,
+walking resolutely up to the horse. In a flash it all came clear to
+her--the feud, the fights, and now this compact to ride.
+
+"Mr. Bowles!" she cried, raising her voice in a sudden command--but
+before she could get out the words Hardy Atkins laid his hand on her
+arm.
+
+"You go on back to the house!" he said, fixing her with his horse-taming
+eyes. "You go back where you belong! I'm doin' this!"
+
+"You let go of me!" stormed Dixie Lee, making a savage pass at him with
+her quirt--and then a great shout drowned their quarrel and made them
+forget everything but Bowles.
+
+The obsession of days of brooding had laid hold upon him and left him
+with a single, fixed idea--to ride Dunbar or die. And to him, no less
+than to Hardy Atkins, the coming of Dixie Lee was a disappointment. For
+a minute, he too had stood irresolute; then, with the simplicity of
+madness, he went straight to the blindfolded horse and began to lower
+his foot. As the quarrel sprang up, he gathered his reins; without
+looking back, he hooked his stirrup; and then, very gently, he rose to
+the saddle. Then the shout rang out, and he reached down and twitched up
+the blind.
+
+Gazing out from beneath the band which had held him in utter darkness,
+the deep-set rattlesnake eye of Dunbar rolled hatefully at the man on
+his back. He crooked his neck and twisted his malformed head, and Bowles
+felt him swelling like a lizard between his knees--then, with a squeal,
+he bared his teeth and snapped at his leg like a dog. The next moment
+his head went down and he rose in a series of buck-jumps, whirling
+sideways, turning half-way round, and landing with a jolt. And at every
+jolt Bowles' head snapped back and his muscles grew stiff at the jar.
+But just as the world began to grow black, and he felt himself shaken in
+his seat, the trailing neck rope lapped Dunbar about the hind legs and
+he paused to kick himself free.
+
+It was only a moment's respite, but it heartened the rider mightily. He
+caught the stirrup that he had lost, wiped the mist from his eyes, and
+settled himself deep in the saddle.
+
+"Good boy! Stay with 'im!" yelled the maniacs on the fence-posts; and
+then old Dunbar broke loose. The man never lived that could ride
+him--Bowles realized that as he clutched for the horn--and then his
+pride rose in him and he sat limber and swung the quirt. One, two, three
+times, he felt himself jarred to the center, and the blood burst
+suddenly from his mouth and nose and splashed in a crimson flood. He had
+no knowledge of what was happening now, for he could not see; and then,
+with a heart-breaking wrench, he felt himself hurled from the saddle and
+sent tumbling heels over head. He struck, and the corral dirt rose in
+his face; there was a cloud before him, a mist; and then, as the
+dizziness vanished, he beheld the man-killer charging at him through the
+dust with all his teeth agleam.
+
+[Illustration: "THE MAN-KILLER CHARGED AT HIM THROUGH THE DUST"]
+
+"Look out!" yelled the crowd on the fence-top. "Look out!"
+
+And Bowles scrambled up and fell over to one side. His knees were weak;
+they would not bear him; and through the dust cloud he saw Dunbar slide
+and turn again. Then of a sudden he was in a tangle of legs and stirrups
+and striking feet, and somebody grabbed him by the arm. Three pistol
+shots rang out above him; he was snaked violently aside; and old Dunbar
+went down like a log. Somebody had killed him, that was certain; but it
+was not Brigham, for he could tell by the characteristic cursing that it
+was his partner who had pulled him out and was dragging him across the
+corral. He blinked and opened his eyes as he fetched up against the
+fence--and there was Dixie Lee, with a big, smoking pistol in her hand,
+striding after him out of the dust.
+
+She looked down at him, her eyes blazing with anger; and then, snapping
+the empty cartridges out of the Colt's, she handed it back to a puncher.
+
+"Well," she said, "I hope you boys are satisfied now!" And without a
+second look at Brigham, Bowles, Hardy Atkins, or the remains of Dunbar,
+she turned and strode back to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+When Bat Wing Bowles got up out of the dirt he was shaken in body and
+spirit. His corporeal frame felt as if it had been passed through a
+carpet-beater, and he had lost some of his most precious illusions.
+Certainly, if there was any way by which a tenderfoot might hope to
+achieve a little hard-earned fame in the Far West, it was not by riding
+bronks; and now, before he could wipe the blood from his nose, they were
+blaming him for all their troubles.
+
+"The blank-blanked greenhorn!" cursed Hardy Atkins, pacing to and fro
+and gazing at the hulk of Dunbar. "I _tol'_ 'im to keep off that hawse!
+Never would've let 'im rode 'im--not for a thousand dollars! And then,
+the minute my back's turned--and Dix right there to copper the play--he
+goes and pulls off _this_! But I don't care--_I_ never done nothin'! You
+boys seen 'im--he done it himse'f!"
+
+And then, all the anger and blood-lust that had been in Bowles' heart
+for days went suddenly to his right hand, and, putting his shoulder
+behind it, he smote the ex-twister on the jaw. It was a wicked blow,
+very much like the one he had received himself, and it laid the false
+cow-puncher low. He came up reaching for his gun, and Bowles knocked him
+down again, and took the gun away. Then he passed it on to Brigham, and
+offered to fight him some more--or anybody! A raging devil of combat
+seemed to possess him, and he shouted for war, and more war. The cowboys
+drew away from him as from a man who has lost his right mind, and it was
+not until Brigham had cajoled him into dipping his hot head into the
+horse-trough that Bowles left off his raving. A drink of Mr. Mosby's
+strong coffee, and a rest on his bed by the sheds, and his sanity was
+completely restored--but his illusions were lost forever!
+
+Never again would Samuel Bowles try to beat the cow-puncher at his own
+game; never would he mount a wild horse; and never would he put faith in
+womankind. Not out West, anyway. To be sure, Dixie Lee had saved him
+from the man-killer, but she had done it in such a way as to injure his
+pride irreparably. And if anybody had cooled his fevered brow after the
+accident, it certainly was not Dixie, but Brigham Clark, when he ducked
+his head in the horse-trough. A sudden aversion to his surroundings--a
+stern dislike for sentiment and the Bat Wing--came over Bowles as he lay
+moping in his blankets, and, rising on his elbow, he called to Brigham.
+
+"Brig," he said, "I'm going to quit this accursed ranch--would you mind
+catching my private horse?"
+
+"No, ner mine neither!" fulminated Brig. "I jest been waitin' fer ye to
+say the word--been ready myse'f fer a week!"
+
+He hopped on his horse as he spoke, and rode out into the pasture, and
+as he returned with their private mounts Gloomy Gus came over from the
+fire.
+
+"What ye goin' to do, Brig," he inquired; "quit?"
+
+"Yep," answered Brig, as he lashed their beds on his spare horse;
+"gittin' too bad fer me. Next thing you know, somebody'd git killed."
+
+"That's right," agreed Gus gloomily; "gittin' pretty bad around hyer.
+Cow-punchin' ain't what it used to be. Well, I'm sorry to see you go."
+
+He put them up a lunch and watched them off, and then turned back to his
+pots and kettles, grumbling and shaking his head.
+
+That was their only farewell, but as they rode out the gate, Dixie Lee
+appeared at the big house door and looked after them as they passed.
+Their mounts alone told the story of their departure, and their beds on
+the horse behind; but though she knew they were quitting, she stood
+silent and made no sign.
+
+"Want to say good-by?" inquired Brig, glancing up at her from under his
+hat, but Bowles did not reply. A deadly apathy had succeeded his
+passion, and he was sullen and incapable of higher thoughts. All he
+wanted now was to get away--after that he could think what to do.
+
+They turned their horses' heads toward Chula Vista, where they must go
+to draw their time, and after they had ridden a mile Bowles suddenly
+turned in his saddle--but Dixie had passed inside. A deep and melancholy
+sadness came over him now, and he sighed as he slumped down in his seat,
+but Brigham did not notice his silence. At noon they ate as they rode,
+getting a drink at a nester's windmill, and at night they camped by a
+well. Then it was that Bowles woke up from his brooding and saw that he
+was not alone in his mood--Brigham, too, was downcast and wrapt up in
+his thoughts. His mind ran quickly back to ascertain the cause, and he
+remembered the cherished job.
+
+For one short, eventful month Brigham Clark had been a boss. A
+straw-boss, to be sure, but still a boss--and now he had lost his job.
+Never again, perhaps, would he rise to the proud eminence of a
+"straw"--and yet he had quit his place instantly to throw in his lot
+with him. A wave of compassion and self-reproach swept over Bowles at
+the thought, and he forgot his own ugly mood.
+
+"Brig," he said, as they sat close to their tiny fire, "I'm sorry you
+had to quit. If it hadn't been for me, and Hardy Atkins, you'd be back
+there now, on your job. It might have led to something better, too. Mr.
+Lee often said----"
+
+"Aw, fergit it," grumbled Brig morosely. "_I_ didn't want the job.
+What's the use of bein' a puncher, anyway? They's nothin' in it but hard
+work. I've got a good mind to hike back to the Gila and go to pitchin'
+hay."
+
+"Well, if I'm in your way at all," urged Bowles, "don't hesitate to say
+so. I only proposed this White Mountain trip----"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," broke in Brig. "I'll be glad to git away from it
+all--git where they ain't no girls, nor mail, nor nothin'. Up there in
+them big pine trees where a man can fergit his troubles. But I want to
+go back past the Bat Wing. I told Dix all about it last week, and I
+shore want to bid her good-by. There's a good girl--Dix--but she can't
+understand. She says if I had any nerve I'd go and take a chance--marry
+the girl and wait and see what happened to me--my girl down on the
+river, you know."
+
+Bowles nodded gravely and waited for him to go on. It was a month since
+Brigham had spoken of his girl, and he had never discussed the affair
+since that first rush of confidences, until now suddenly he dived into
+the midst of it.
+
+"No," continued Brig, gazing mournfully at his dead cigarette; "Dix is
+all right, but she don't know them Mormons like I do. She don't know
+what they're liable to do. This feller that's tryin' to marry my girl is
+the bishop's own son--he's that feller I beat up so bad when I took to
+the hills a while back--and he's bound to do me dirt. My girl won't
+marry me, nohow--not lessen I become a Mormon--and shore as you're
+settin' there, boy, if I take that gal from the bishop's son, I'm
+elected to go on a mission!
+
+"I know it! Hain't the old man got it in fer me? And then what's to
+become of my wife? Am I goin' to leave her fer two years and that
+dastard a-hangin' around? Not on yore life--if they summoned me fer a
+mission, I'd either take my wife along or I'd kill that bishop's
+son--one or the other. But that's the worst of it--the bishop's kid is
+on the spot, and I'm hidin' out like a coyote. My girl keeps a-writin'
+like she never gets no letters, and beggin' me to come back and be good!
+But I can't do it--that's all--I been a renegade too long."
+
+"Well," suggested Bowles, after a long pause, "perhaps we could go by
+that way. Maybe her folks are keeping your letters from her, or
+something like that. If there is anything I can do for you, Brig, don't
+hesitate to ask for it. I might go around and see her for you--or if you
+need money----"
+
+"No," protested Brigham petulantly; "money won't buy me nothin' with
+her. I'm up ag'in the whole Mormon church--and if you knew half of what
+I do about 'em, you'd know that you can't buck these bishops. The Mormon
+folks is fine people--they'll feed you, and help you, and do anything in
+the world fer you--but them priests and apostles and bishops--umph-umm!
+The more you know about 'em, the worse it scares you up--and I'm shore
+down on their black books. No, pardner, I ain't got a chanc'st, so let's
+fergit it. I talked it all over with Dix, and she kinder heartened me
+up; but it ain't no use. My girl don't like me enough to cut loose and
+quit her people, and I won't turn Mormon fer nobody--so there you are.
+Come on, let's go to bed!"
+
+It was a hard and tragic problem, and long after the fatalistic Brig had
+gone to sleep, Bowles lay awake and tried to find a way out. His own
+petty griefs seemed sordid by the side of it, and all the way to town he
+turned it over in his mind. But, now that he had dismissed it forever,
+Brigham Clark became his old carefree self again.
+
+"I'll tell you what we'll do!" he exclaimed, as they talked of their
+trip to the hills. "We'll hunt up old Bill Jump, and show him the latest
+in lies. I betcher I can make that old feller ashamed of himse'f--he's
+jest one of these here common, long-haired liars that don't know nothin'
+but to go you one better, anyway. But you wait till I pull that
+Hippodrome stuff on 'im--I betcher that'll make his jaw drop. Never did
+git to spring that on the boys--say, tell me that ag'in about the clown
+that fished up bulldogs outer the lake--and them elephants comin' over
+the waterfall! Yes, sir; if old Bill is up in them White Mountains,
+we'll certainly make him look sick!"
+
+It was a glorious thing to contemplate, and, once in town, they made
+haste to lay in their supplies; but when Brigham came back from his
+interview with the boss Bowles could see that his enthusiasm had been
+shaken. For reasons of his own, Bowles had preferred not to meet the
+Lees, and he had asked Brig to convey his regrets and a release for his
+two months' pay. If eighty dollars would compensate for the defunct
+Dunbar, Mr. Bowles was satisfied; otherwise, he would be glad to meet
+the difference. But the trouble in Brigham's eye was not one of dollars
+and cents--he had something big on his mind.
+
+"Say," he said, as he beckoned Bowles to a corner of the corral, "what
+d'ye think Mrs. Lee sprung on me when I went around fer my pay? And, by
+the way, they was a deputy sheriff inquirin' fer you when I come out by
+the desk, so come away from that gate--but what d'ye think she said?"
+
+"Why, I'm sure I can't imagine," answered Bowles, with his old-time
+calm. "What was it?"
+
+"Well, she had a big yeller telegraph in her hand that she was kinder
+wavin' around--I never did find out what it was all about--but when I
+come in to the hotel she flew at me like and says:
+
+"'Mr. Clark, do you know who that young man is you're travelin' with?'
+
+"Well, sir, the way she said it made me mad clean through, and I says to
+her:
+
+"'No, Mrs. Lee, I don't--and, what's more, I don't care! He's a good
+pardner, that's all I know--and that's all I want to know!'
+
+"And then I turned around and walked out. I don't know what them Lees
+have got to be so proud about, the way old Henry used to cave around,
+but I showed her, by grab, they was one puncher she couldn't run it
+over! She always did make me mad," observed Brig, as he stole quiet
+glances at his friend, "but I knowed mighty well you wasn't no _crook_
+and--and I don't care _what_ you done!"
+
+"Well, thank you just as much--I haven't done anything, Brig," answered
+Bowles with a reassuring smile. "But," he added, "that's no reason for
+not getting out of town."
+
+They packed their horse hurriedly, and Bowles rode on ahead, but once on
+the open prairie he gave way to a hearty laugh.
+
+"Brig," he said, "what in the world do you think I've done?"
+
+"Well, I dunno," mumbled Brig, looking him over shrewdly. "Of course, I
+knowed all along they was nothin' to that Christabel talk--stands to
+reason a man wouldn't leave home for a little thing like that. About
+that aunt, now, that sounds a little more likely--but I've knowed
+fellers that come out here jest fer fun."
+
+"Yes, but this deputy sheriff--and all that!"
+
+"We-ell," drawled Brigham, with a sly twinkle in his eye, "I heeard a
+little more from him than what I told you at the first!"
+
+"Oh, indeed! And what else did you hear?"
+
+"Well----" Brig stopped and stuck his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "He
+said it was a woman that wanted you!"
+
+"My aunt!" exclaimed Bowles, striking his leg; but Brig only spat and
+grinned.
+
+"Sure!" he said, and grinned again.
+
+"I have it!" cried Bowles. "Mrs. Lee wrote back and told her sister I
+was here--and then my aunt began telegraphing! That telegram Mrs. Lee
+had was from her!"
+
+"Sure thing," agreed Brig; and Bowles looked up to find him smirking.
+
+"Well, what's the matter?" he demanded. "Say, you're pretty smart,
+aren't you, Brig?" he observed, with pitying scorn. "They don't put one
+over on you very often, do they?"
+
+"No, indeedy!" swaggered Brigham; and then they both laughed--to
+themselves. But the jest put an effectual end to the discussion, since
+Brigham did not know what it was he was supposed to have discovered, and
+Bowles took no pains to enlighten him. It was enough that Brig
+considered him a very gay dog indeed, and he did not deny the soft
+impeachment. So, each with his satisfied smile, they jogged along across
+the plains, dragging their pack animal behind them and heading for the
+Bat Wing.
+
+All that day they rode on through the mellow sunshine, and the next
+morning found them still on their way; but just as the well-remembered
+ranch came into view there was a rattle of wheels from behind and they
+swung out to give Henry Lee the road. He was driving the fiery grays,
+and they fought gamely against the delay, but he pulled them down to a
+walk while he handed Bowles a note.
+
+"Telegram for you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Brig, stop at the ranch when
+you go by--I want to talk with you."
+
+There was much more that might have been said, and Mrs. Lee smiled
+approvingly at Bowles, but the grays were within sight of the haystack
+and they cut the talk short with a bolt. Then Bowles glanced through the
+telegram and thrust it into his shirt.
+
+"My aunt----" he began, and as the grin on Brig's face widened, he
+stopped short and fell into a sulk. "No use telling you anything, Brig,"
+he said at last; "you can guess by the color of my eye."
+
+"Sure!" said Brig, after a moment of baffled silence. "Yore aunt seems
+to think a whole lot of you. And, speakin' about women-folks, what's
+this comin' down off the hill?"
+
+He nodded at the foothills to the west, and as Bowles gazed he saw Dixie
+Lee coming down the broad slope like an arrow. She was riding
+Wa-ha-lote, too, and at sight of that noble charger the heart of Bat
+Wing Bowles became sad--or perhaps it was at sight of Dixie. However
+that may be, he continued on his way with melancholy resignation; while
+Brig viewed her coming with alarm.
+
+"Here's where I ketch hell fer somethin'!" he muttered, as she sighted
+him from afar; and when she rode up and faced him he hung his head like
+a truant.
+
+"You Brig!" she said at last, whipping the hair from her eyes with one
+hand, "you haven't got git-up enough in you to win an Indian squaw!
+You'll make a lovely husband for somebody, and that's a fact--the way
+you do your courting. Who do you think is up to the big house waiting
+for you?"
+
+"Huh?" demanded Brig, now suddenly all attention.
+
+"Well, she's been there for more than a day--while you were out shooting
+prairie-dogs. What she sees in you is more than I can say, but----"
+
+"Who're ye talkin' about?" barked Brigham, throwing loose his
+leading-rope.
+
+"I'm talking about your girl," answered Dixie with Spartan directness.
+"Here, I'll lead your pack--go ahead and show her your dust."
+
+"I'll do that," said Brig, leaning forward as she spoke; and, passing
+over the rope, he went spurring up the road.
+
+Dixie Lee gave Bowles a level look from beneath her tumbled hair, and
+touched Wa-ha-lote with the spur. Her manner seemed to be a disclaimer
+of any responsibility for their being left together, and yet somehow it
+was very obvious that the stage had been set for an interview. But if
+Dixie had any intentions, she concealed them effectually, and her manner
+was one of good-natured tolerance.
+
+"Well, look at that crazy fool ride," she observed, as Brig disappeared
+in his own dust. "You'd think from the way he travels he was the keenest
+lover in the world." She paused here and laughed to herself.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles, with a certain brotherly pride. "Old
+Brig thinks a lot of that girl."
+
+"Well, maybe he does," conceded Dixie; "but he certainly makes me
+provoked. I declare, the way some of these men----" she paused again and
+bit her lip. Mr. Bowles was one of those men, too. "I reckon it's all
+right," she continued resignedly; "but when a woman has to ride clear
+over to the Gila, and propose for a man, and steal his girl for him, and
+then round him up and send him in, I guess she has some excuse to speak
+her mind. Don't you think so, Mr. Bowles? Well, then, if your friend
+Brigham had had his way, he would have hit for the summit of the White
+Mountains, and his girl would have been married to a Mormon! It makes me
+mad, Mr. Bowles, I declare it does! The idea of leaving that poor little
+girl over there and never going near her, when all the time she was
+begging him to come back, and her folks were reading her letters. She
+couldn't _write_ it to him--she had to _tell_ him--and he never showed
+up at all. Please don't apologize for him, Mr. Bowles; I'm sure there's
+not a word to be said."
+
+Mr. Bowles bowed his head and felt very humble indeed, as if he, too, in
+some inexplicable way, had erred and been rebuked.
+
+"And now," said Dixie at last, "Father'll make Mr. Brig his wagon-boss,
+and they'll get married and live at the ranch. Simple, isn't it?"
+
+"Why, it seems so," admitted Bowles; "but how do you know he will?"
+
+"How do I know?" repeated Dixie, rolling her eyes on him. "Why, Mr.
+Bowles, have you been around the Bat Wing for two months and failed to
+note who was boss? Right after you and Brigham Clark left I went down
+and _fired_ that Hardy Atkins--so you don't need to be bashful about
+coming back."
+
+Her voice trailed off a little as she ended, and Bowles started and
+looked at the ground. New worlds and vistas appeared before him, and
+visions and sudden dreams--and then he was back by her side, and the
+road was passing by.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said at last. "It's my own fault--I should have
+explained at the beginning. But now your mother has written to her
+sister, and she has told my aunt, and so I've got to move on. She's
+telegraphing already." He showed her the yellow message and slipped it
+back into his pocket. "And there was a deputy sheriff inquiring for me,"
+he added bitterly.
+
+"Oh, dear!" pouted Dixie, yanking at the reluctant pack-horse. "I just
+knew she'd do it. Mother means well, but she's a New Yorker, and--well,
+I hope she's satisfied!"
+
+"Yes, I hope so too," added Bowles. "I never did have anything to be
+ashamed of, but--do you know who I am?"
+
+"No, I don't," answered Dixie May. "And I don't care, either," she
+added, glancing across at him with clear-seeing eyes. "I always knew you
+were a gentleman, and--say, what's the matter with that pack?"
+
+She dismounted quickly as she spoke, and Bowles dropped off to help.
+Then, after the ropes had been tightened, they stood silent within the
+circle of their horses.
+
+"Mr. Bowles," began Dixie, leaning one arm on the pack and looking
+thoughtfully away, "being the man you are, you--you wouldn't compel a
+lady to apologize to you, would you?"
+
+"Why no, no--certainly not!" gasped Bowles, alarmed by a mistiness in
+her eyes.
+
+"Because if that's what you're going away for----"
+
+"Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" protested Bowles, now suddenly stirred to the
+depths. "Don't think of it--not for a moment! No, indeed! I will confess
+that I was a little hurt by your--but that's all right! That's all
+right! You don't know my aunt, do you, Miss Lee? I can't explain it to
+you, but--well, she's a very determined woman, in her way, and--well,
+she wants me to come home."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes, and so I'd better move on. I'm sorry that Brig can't go along with
+me, but--well, I can go alone. Do you remember one time, when we were
+coming West, I spoke about the spirit of the country--the spirit of the
+West? Well, I have found it--it is to move on!"
+
+"And never come back?" inquired Dixie quickly.
+
+"Well, something like that," admitted Bowles.
+
+"Yes, I do remember that," responded Dixie, with a reminiscent smile. "I
+remember it well. We were alone on the train and we said all kinds of
+things--I didn't know you very well then. I remember you told me once,
+if I'd help you find the Far West, you'd be my faithful knight--and all
+that. And I helped you, too, didn't I?"
+
+"Why, yes!" said Bowles, puzzled by her air.
+
+"Well, what about being my knight?" demanded Dixie, with sudden
+frankness. "You've done well out here, Mr. Bowles, but there's one thing
+I'm disappointed in--you don't keep the customs of the country!"
+
+"Why, what do you mean, Miss Lee?" inquired Bowles.
+
+A sudden smile illuminated Dixie's face--the same smile that had taken
+possession of him when he had forgotten and stolen a kiss--and then she
+turned away and blushed.
+
+"Well," she said, "you're the first Bat Wing man that has gone away
+without--without proposing to me!"
+
+She glanced at him defiantly and folded her arms--and Bowles felt his
+reason eclipsed, and the world go dark before him. A thousand riotous
+thoughts clamored suddenly for recognition, and his brain reeled at the
+shock. Then he opened his eyes, and she was still smiling at him, but
+the smile had a twinkle of mischief in it. The memory of her legion of
+suitors came over him now, and her carefree, jesting ways, and he became
+of a sudden calm. They had all proposed, and she had led them on, and
+then she had told them no. But she should never deal that ignominy to
+him. If she scorned his humble suit and desired only to add his scalp to
+the rest, he would escape at least with his pride--he would never let
+her say he had proposed.
+
+"Ah, you must excuse me, Miss Lee," he said, speaking with a formal
+restraint. "Much as I value your happiness, I--I cannot observe
+this--custom of the country!"
+
+He spat the words out bitterly, and closed his lips--as if there was
+more he might say. But Dixie did not lose her smile.
+
+"Maybe I'd accept you," she suggested with a roguish twinkle, and once
+more he gazed into her eyes to read there if she was his friend. But a
+woman's eyes are deceptive, and hers spoke of many things--she smiled,
+the old dazzling smile, but there was mischief in the depths. He sighed
+and drew away.
+
+"Ah, no," he said, "you cannot understand." Then, as she waited, his
+heart turned to bitterness and he spoke on as the thoughts came.
+"Really, Miss Lee, it pains me--I cannot believe it. What is one man,
+more or less, that you should hurt me like this? Dixie"--he raised his
+downcast eyes and regarded her reproachfully--"I have dreamed about you.
+I have worshiped you from afar--I have fought my way to be near you. You
+don't know how it would pain me--after all I have hoped--to have
+you----"
+
+"Aw, Bowles," chided Dixie, reaching out her hand, "can't you see that I
+want you?"
+
+And then Bowles' dream came true.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bat Wing Bowles, by Dane Coolidge
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