“Oh, I reckon so. Beggars mustn’t be choosers – and I sure need him. Thirty dollars, you said?”
“Wouldn’t take a cent more. I’m not gougin’ you. That’s his price, weekdays or Sunday. He don’t look much, but he ain’t such a bad little hoss.”
Hales nodded. “He’ll do, I guess.”
“You done bought a horse!” said Bobby. “And Johnny, he’s got a mount to make him a rep – if they don’t spill him.” He broke into rollicking song:
They picked me up and carried me in;
They rubbed me down with a rolling pin.
“Oh, that’s the way we all begin,
You’re doing well,” says Brown;
“To-morrow morn, if you don’t die,
I’ll give you another horse to try.”
“Oh, can’t you let me walk?” says I —
Here he cocked an impish eye at Dines, observed that gentleman’s mournful face, and broke the song short.
“What’s the matter with you now, Dinesy? You can ride ’em, of course. No trouble after you first take the edge off.”
“It isn’t that,” said Dines sorrowfully. “I – I – you ain’t a bit to blame, but – ”
He stopped, embarrassed.
“What’s the matter, you old fool? Spill it!”
Johnny sighed and drew in a long breath.
“I hate to name it, Bob – I do so. Hiram Yoast and Foamy White, the blamed old fools, they orter told you! They’ll be all broke up about this.” He looked Bob square in the eye and plunged on desperately. “Them bears, Bobby – Hiram and Foamy had been makin’ pets of ’em. Feedin’ them beef bones and such ever since last spring – had ’em plumb gentle.”
“Hell and damnation!”
Johnny’s eyes were candid and compassionate. “Anybody would have done just the same, Bobby. Don’t you feel too bad about it. Rotten durned shame, though. Them bears was a bushel o’ fun. Jack and Jill, the two biggest ones, they was a leetle mite standoffish and inclined to play it safe. But the Prodigal Son, that’s the least one – growed a heap since last spring with plenty to eat that way – why, the Prodigal he’d never met up with any man but Foamy and Hi, so he wasn’t a mite leery. Regular clown, that bear. Stand up right in front of the door, and catch biscuit and truck the boys threw to him – loll out his little red tongue and grin like a house afire. He was right comical. How he did love molasses!”
“How come them fools didn’t tell me?” demanded the crestfallen hunter, almost in tears.
“Pretty tough luck,” said Hales commiseratingly. “I killed a pet deer once. I know just how you feel.”
“I don’t know who’s to break it to Hiram and Foamy,” said Johnny, grieving. “It’s goin’ to hurt ’em, bad! They set a heap of store by them bears – ’special the Prodigal – poor little fellow! I feel right bad myself, and I was only here two nights. Make it all the worse for them, being all on account of their cussed carelessness. I can’t see how you’re a bit to blame. Only I do think you might have noticed your night horse didn’t make any fuss. Usual, horses are scared stiff of bears. But they’d got plumb used to these.”
“Didn’t keep up no horse that night,” said Bob miserably.
“Look here!” said Hales. “What’s the use of letting them other fellows know anything about it? Mr. Dines and me, we won’t tell. This young man can send his bearskins over east, Tularosa or somewhere, and keep his lip buttoned up. No one need be ever the wiser. Bears change their range whenever they get good and ready. Nobody need know but what they just took a notion to light out.”
“Say, that’s the right idea!” said Johnny, brightening. “That’ll save a heap of trouble. Boys are liable to think the round-up scared ’em out – as might happen, easy. That ain’t all either. That plan will not only save Hi and Foamy a heap o’ grief, but it won’t be no bad thing for Bob Gifford. I’ll tell you honest, Bob – the Bar Cross will near devil the life out of you if this thing ever gets out.”
“That’s good dope, kid,” said Hales kindly. “No use cryin’ over spilt milk.”
“Let’s drop it then. I’ll get rid of the bear hides.”
“That’s right. Talkin’ about it only makes you feel bad. Forget it. Here, I’ll give you something else to think about. You two seem to be all right.”
Hales drew rein, with a long appraising look at the younger man. It seemed to satisfy him; he rode a little to one side, facing a wooded sugar-loaf hill in the middle of the rough gap leading east to Rosebud. He waved his hand. A crackling of brush made instant answer; high above them a horseman came from cover and picked his way down the steep hill.
“Friend of mine,” explained Hales, returning. “He is sort of watering at night, just now. No hanging matter – but he wouldn’t have showed up unless I waved him the O. K. And he is sure one hungry man. It’s for him I bought the horse.”
Johnny reflected a little. This was no new or startling procedure. Besides being the most lonesome spot in a thinly settled country, with a desert on each side, and with Engle, thirty miles, for next neighbor, the horse camp had other advantages. It was situated in the Panhandle of Socorro County; a long, thin strip of rough mountain, two townships wide and five long, with Sierra County west, Dona Ana to the south, Lincoln and Otero on the east; a convenient juxtaposition in certain contingencies. Many gentlemen came uncommunicative to the horse camp and departed unquestioned. In such case the tradition of hospitality required the host to ride afield against the parting time; so being enabled to say truly that he knew not the direction of his guest’s departure. Word was passed on; the Panhandle became well and widely known; we all know what the lame dog did to the doctor.
But Johnny rubbed his nose. This thing had been done with needless ostentation; and Johnny did not like Mr. Hales’ face. It was a furtive face; the angles of the eyes did not quite match, so that the eyes seemed to keep watch of each other; moreover, they were squinched little eyes, and set too close to the nose; the nose was too thin and was pinched to a covert sneer, aided therein by a sullen mouth under heavy mustaches. Altogether Mr. Hales did not look like a man overgiven to trustfulness. Johnny did not see any reason why Mr. Hales’ friend should not have ridden in later and with more reticence; so he set himself to watch for such reason.
“My friend, Mr. Smith,” announced Hales, as Mr. Smith joined them. Mr. Smith, like the others, wore belt and six-shooter; also, a rifle was strapped under his knee. He was a short and heavy-set man, singularly carefree of appearance, and he now inquired with great earnestness: “Anybody mention grub?”
“Sure,” said Bobby. “Let’s drift! Only a mile or so.”
We all went to the ranch next day;
Brown augured me most all the way;
He said cowpunching was only play,
There was no work at all.
“All you have to do is ride,
It’s just like drifting with the tide – ”
Lord have mercy, how he lied!
He had a most horrible gall!
The walling hills were higher now. The cañon fell away swiftly to downward plunge, gravel between cut banks. Just above the horse camp it made a sharp double-S curve. Riding across a short cut of shoulder, Bob, in the lead, held up a hand to check the others. He rode up on a little platform to the right, from which, as pedestal, rose a great hill of red sandstone, square-topped and incredibly steep. Bobby waved his hat; a man on foot