“Aw, they’re all right. You go on in—I guess Weary’s there. If he ain’t, you go ahead and get what yuh want. I’ll be back after awhile.” Thirst was calling Happy Jack; he heeded the summons and disappeared, leaving the new cook to his own devices.
So, it would seem, did every other member of the Flying U. Weary had been told that Miss Satterly was in town, and he forgot all about Jakie in his haste to find her. No one else seemed to feel any responsibility in the matter, and the store clerks did not care what the Flying U outfit had to eat. For that reason the chuck-wagon contained in an hour many articles which were strange to it, and lacked a few things which might justly be called necessities.
“Say, you fellows are sure going to live swell,” one of the clerks remarked, when Happy Jack finally returned. “Where did yuh pick his nibs? Ain’t he a little bit new and shiny?”
“Aw, he’s all right,” Happy Jack defended jealously. “He’s a real chaff, and he can build the swellest meals yuh ever eat. Patsy can’t cook within a mile uh him. And clean—I betche he don’t keep his bread-dough setting around on the ground for folks to tromp on.” Which proves how completely Jakie had subjugated Happy Jack.
That night—nobody but the horse-wrangler and Happy Jack had shown up at dinner-time—the boys of the Flying U dined luxuriously at their new-made camp upon the creek-bank at the home ranch, and ate things which they could not name but which pleased wonderfully their palates. There was a salad to tempt an epicure, and there was a pudding the like of which they had never tasted. It had a French name which left them no wiser than before asking for it, and it looked, as Pink remarked, like a snowbank with the sun shining on it, and it tasted like going to heaven.
“It makes me plumb sore when I think of all the years I’ve stood for Patsy’s slops,” sighed Cal Emmett, rolling over upon his back because he was too full for any other position—putting it plainly.
“By golly, I never knowed there was such cookin’ in the world,” echoed Slim. “Why, even Mis’ Bixby can’t cook that good.”
“The Countess had ought to come down and take a few lessons,” declared Jack Bates emphatically. “I’m going to take up some uh that pudding and ask her what she thinks of it.”
“Yuh can’t,” mourned Happy Jack. “There ain’t any left—and I never got more’n a taste. Next time, I’m going to tell Jakie to make it in a wash tub, and make it full; with some uh you gobblers in camp—”
He looked up and discovered the Little Doctor approaching with Chip. She was smiling a friendly welcome, and she was curious about the new cook. By the time she had greeted them all and had asked all the questions she could think of and had gone over to meet Jakie and to taste, at the urgent behest of the Happy Family, a tiny morsel of salad which had been overlooked, it would seem that the triumph of the new cook was complete and that no one could possibly give a thought to old Patsy.
The Little Doctor, however, seemed to regret his loss—and that in the face of the delectable salad and the smile of Jakie. “I do think it’s a shame that Patsy left the way he did,” she remarked to the Happy Family in general, being especially careful not to look toward Big Medicine. “The poor old fellow walked every step of the way to the ranch, and Claude”—that was Chip’s real name—“says it was twenty-five or six miles. He was so lame and he looked so old and so—well, friendless, that I could have cried when he came limping up to the house! He had walked all night, and he got here just at breakfast time and was too tired to eat.
“I dosed him and doctored his poor feet and made him go to bed, and he slept all that day. He wanted to start that night for Dry Lake, but of course we wouldn’t let him do that. He was wild to leave, however, so J.G. had to drive him in the next day. He went off without a word to any of us, and he looked so utterly dejected and so—so old. Claude says he acted perfectly awful in camp, but I’m sure he was sorry for it afterwards. J.G. hasn’t got over it yet; I believe he has taken it to heart as much as Patsy seemed to do. He’s had Patsy with him for so long, you see—he was like one of the family.” She stopped and regarded the Happy Family a bit anxiously. “This new cook is a very nice little man,” she added after a minute, “but after all, he isn’t Patsy.”
The Happy Family did not answer, and they refrained from looking at one another or at the Little Doctor.
At last Big Medicine brought his big voice into the awkward silence. “Honest to grandma, Mrs. Chip,” he said earnestly, “I’d give a lot right now to have old Patsy back—er—just to have around, if it made him feel bad to leave. I reckon maybe that was my fault: I hadn’t oughta pitched quite so hard, and I had oughta looked where I was throwin’ m’ rider. I reelize that no cook likes to have a fellow standin’ on his head in a big pan uh bread-sponge, on general principles if not on account uh the bread. Uh course, we’ve all knowed old Patsy to take just about as great liberties himself with his sponge—but we’ve got to recollect that it was his dough, by cripes, and that pipe ashes ain’t the same as a fellow takin’ a shampoo in the pan. No, I reelize that I done wrong, and I’m willin’ to apologize for it right here and now. At the same time,” he ended dryly, “I will own that I’m dead stuck on little Jakie, and I’d ruther ride for the Flying U and eat Jakie’s grub than any other fate I can think of right now. Whilst I’m sorry for what I done, yuh couldn’t pry me loose from Jakie with a stick uh dynamite—and that’s a fact, Mrs. Chip.”
The Little Doctor laughed, pushed back her hair in the way she had, glanced again at the unresponsive faces of the original members of the Happy Family and gave up as gracefully as possible.
“Oh, of course Patsy’s an old crank, and Jakie’s a waxed angel,” she surrendered with a little grimace. “You think so now, but that’s because you are being led astray by your appetites, like all men. You just wait: You’ll be homesick for a sight of that fat, bald-headed, cranky old Patsy bouncing along on the mess-wagon and swearing in Dutch at his horses, before you’re through. If you’re not so completely gone over to Jakie that you will eat nothing but what he has cooked, come on up to the house. The Countess is making a twogallon freezer of ice-cream for you, and she has a big pan of angel cake to go with it! You don’t deserve it—but come along anyway.” Which was another endearing way of the Little Doctor’s—the way of sweetening all her lectures with something very nice at the end.
The Happy Family felt very much ashamed and very sorry that they could not feel kindly toward Patsy, even to please the Little Doctor. They sincerely wanted to please her and to have her unqualified approval; but wanting Patsy back, or feeling even the slightest regret that he was gone, seemed to them a great deal too much to ask of them. Since this is a story of cooks and of eating, one may with propriety add, however, that the invitation to ice cream and angel cake, coming though it did immediately after that wonderful supper of Jakie’s, was accepted with alacrity and their usual thoroughness of accomplishment; not for the world would they have offended the Little Doctor by declining so gracious an invitation—the graciousness being manifested in her smile and her voice rather than in the words she spoke—leaving out the enchantment which hovers over the very name of angel cake and ice cream. The Happy Family went to bed that night as complacently uncomfortable as children after a Christmas dinner.
Not often does it fall to the lot of a cowboy to have served to him stuffed olives and lobster salad with mayonnaise dressing, French fried potatoes and cream puffs from the mess-tent of a roundup outfit. During the next week it fell to the lot of the Happy Family, however. When the salads and the cream puffs disappeared suddenly and the smile of Jakie became pensive and contrite, the Happy Family, acting individually but unanimously, made inquiries.
“It is that I no more possess the fresh vegetables, nor the eggs, gentlemen,” purred Jakie. “Many things of a deliciousness must I now abstain because of the absence of two, three small eggs! But see, one brief arrival in the small town would quickly remedy, yes? It is that we return with haste that I may buy more of the several articles for fich I require?” He spread his small hands appealingly.
“By golly, Patsy never had no eggs—” began Slim traitorously.
“Aw,