CHAPTER VI
Ambition is Born
And then began Danny's apprenticeship. Jed, the wise, did not delayactivity. He commenced with the boy as soon as breakfast had been eatenand the dishes washed.
That first day they shod a horse, Danny doing nothing really, buttaking orders from Jed as though the weight of a vast undertakingrested on his shoulders.
The next day they mended fences from early morning until evening.
Gradually the realization came to Danny that he was doing something,that he was filling a legitimate place--small, surely: nevertheless hewas being of use, he was creating. A pleasing sensation! One of the fewtruly wholesome delights he had ever experienced. Danny thought aboutit with almost childish happiness; then, letting his mind return againto the established rut, he was surprised to know that mere thinkingabout his simple, homely duties had stilled for the time it endured therestless creature within him.
The boy's bodily hurts righted themselves. Long hours of sleep did morethan anything else to speed recovery. Those first two nights he wasbetween covers before darkness came to the gulch, and Jed let him sleepuntil the sun was well up.
On the third evening they sat outside, Danny watching Jed put a newhalf-sole on a cast-off riding boot.
"They're your size," the old man said, "an' you'll have to wear boots,to be sure. Them things you got on ain't what I'd call exactly fittedto ridin' a horse."
Danny looked down at his modish Oxfords and smiled. Then he glanced upat the man beside him, who hammered and cut and grunted while he workedas though his very immortality depended on getting those boots readyfor his new hand to wear.
Oh, the boy from the city could not then appreciate the big feeling ofman for mankind which prompted such humble labor. It was a labor oflove, the mere mending of that stiff old boot! In it Jed Avery foundthe encompassing happiness which comes to those who understand,happiness of the same sort he had felt back there at Colt when he sawthat there was a human being who needed help and that it was in hispower to give him that help. And the peace this happiness engenderedcreated an atmosphere which soothed and made warm the heart of the boy,though he did not know why.
"Guess we'd better move inside an' get a light," Jed muttered finally."I'll shut the corral gate. You light th' candle, will you? It's on th'shelf over th' table--stickin' in a bottle."
Danny watched him go away into the dusk and heard the creak of the biggate swinging shut before he stepped into the house and groped his wayalong for the shelf. He found it after a moment and fumbled along forthe candle Jed had said was there. His fingers closed on something hardand cold and cylindrical. He slid his fingers upward; then staggeredback with a half-cry.
"What's wrong?" asked Jed, coming into the house.
Danny did not answer him, so the old man stepped forward toward theshelf. In a moment a match flared; the cold wick of the candle took theflame, warmed, sent it higher, and a glow filled the room.
The boy looked out from eyes that were dark and wide and filled withthe old horror. The hand held near his lips shook, and he turned on Jeda look that pleaded, then gazed back at the light.
The candle was stuck in the neck of a whisky bottle.
Danny opened his lips to speak, but the words would not come. Thatterror was back again, shattering his sense of peace, melting the wordsin his throat with its heat.
Jed moved near to him.
"It's a bright light--for such a little candle," he said slowly, and astout assurance was in his tone.
"But I--I touched the bottle--in the dark!"
Danny's voice was high and strained, and the words, when finally theydid come, tripped over one another in nervous haste. His knees wereweak under him. Such was the strength of the tentacles which reached upto stay his struggles and to drag him back into the depths from whichhe willed to rise. Such was the weakness of the nervous system on whichthe strain of the ordeal was placed.
Jed put a hand on the boy's shoulder and gazed into the drawn face.
"It's all right, sonny," he said softly, his voice modulating fromtwang to tenderness in the manner it had. "Most men touches it in th'dark. But don't you see what this bottle's for? Don't you see thatcandle? Burnin' away there, corkin' up th' bottle, givin' us light sowe can see?"
Then the other hand went up to the boy's other shoulder, and the littleold rancher shook young Danny Lenox gently, as though to joggle himback to himself.
"I know, sonny," he said softly. "I know--" Then he turned away quicklyand smote his palms together with a sharp crack.
"Now get to bed. I'll finish these here boots to-night and in th'mornin' we ride. If you're goin' to get to be a top hand, we've got toquit foolin' around home an' get to learn th' country. They's a lot ofcolts we got to brand an' a bunch of wild ones to gather. It meanswork--lots of it--for you an' me!"
He set to work, busily thumping on the boot.
In the morning, Danny was subdued, subdued and shaking. The spontaneitythat had characterized his first days on the ranch had departed. He wasstill eager for activity, but not for the sake of the new experiencesin themselves. That gnawing was again in his throat, tearing his flesh,it seemed, and to still the trembling of his hand it was necessary forhim to clutch the saddle horn and keep his fingers clamped tightlyabout it as they rode along.
They climbed out of the gulch, horses picking their way up an almostimpossible trail, and on a high ridge, where country rolled and tossedabout them for immeasurable distances, Jed stopped and pointed out thedirections to his companion.
Thirty miles to the south was Clear River with its string of ranches,and the town of Ranger, their post office. Twenty miles to thesoutheast was the S Bar S Ranch, the center of the country's cattleactivity, and over west, on Sand Creek, a dozen miles' ride across thehills and double that distance by road, was another scattering ofranches where Dick Worth, deputy sheriff for that end of Clear RiverCounty, lived.
"An' to th' north of us," continued Jed, with a sweep of his hand,"they's nothin' but hills--clean to Wyoming! We're on th' outskirts ofsettlements. South of th' river it's all ranches, but north--nothin'.Couple of summer camps but no ranches. It's a great get-away country,all right!"
The riding was easy that day, and in spite of his stiffness Dannywished it were harder, because the turmoil kept up within him, and eventhe unbroken talk of Jed, giving him an intelligent, interesting ideaof the country, could not crowd out his disquieting thoughts.
But it was easier the next day, and Danny took a deep interest in thehunt for a band of mares with colts that should be branded. Jed's low,warning "H-s-s-t! There they are!" set his heart pounding wildly, andhe listened eagerly to the directions the old man gave him; then hewaited in high excitement while Jed circled and got behind the bunch.
The horses came toward him, and Danny, at Jed's shout, commenced toride for the ranch. It was a new, an odd, an interesting game. Thehorses came fast and faster. Now and then to his ears floated Jed'srepeated cry: "Keep goin'! Keep ahead!" And he spurred on, wondering atevery jump how his horse could possibly keep his feet longer in thatawful footing.
But he had faith in the stout little beast he rode, and his spirit wasof the sort that would not question when a man as skilled in the gameas was Jed urged him along.
The mares with their colts pressed closely, but Danny kept going, kepturging speed. Straight on for the ranch he headed, and when theyreached the level bottom of the gulch the race waxed warm.
"Into th' round corral!" cried Jed. "Keep goin'! You're doin' fine!"
And into the round corral Danny headed his mount, while the nose of thelead mare reached out at his pony's flank.
The gate swung shut; the mares trotted around the inclosure, worried,for there their offspring had been taken from them before. The coltshung close to their mothers, snorting and rolling their wide eyes,while the saddle horses stood with legs apart, getting their wind.
Danny's eyes sparkled.
"That's sport!" he declared. "But, say,
will these horses always followa rider that way?"
Jed loosed his cinch before he answered: "Horses is like some men. Aslong as they're bein' pushed from behind an' they's somebody goin'ahead of 'em, they'll follow--follow right through high water! But oncelet 'em get past th' rider who's supposed to be holdin' 'em up--why,then they's no handlin' 'em at all. They scatter an' go their own way,remainin' free.
"As I said, they're like men. To be sure, lots of men has got to givethat what's leadin' 'em such a run that they beat it to death an' get achance to go free!"
Danny rubbed his horse's drenched withers and agreed with a nod as Jedwalked over to the gate and fumbled with the fastening.
"Say," he said, turning round, "I like th' way you ride!"
Danny looked up quickly, pleased.
"I'm glad," he said, but in the simple assertion was a great self-pride.
"Most fellers strange in th' country wouldn't fancy takin' that kind ofa bust down off a point. No, sir. Not such a ride for us old heads, butfor a greenhorn-- Well, I guess you'll get to be a top hand some day,all right!"
And the influence which more than all else was to help Danny become atop hand, which was to set up in his heart the great ambition, whichwas to hold itself up as a blazing ideal, came early in his novitiateas a horse hunter--came in a fitting setting, on a day richly golden,when the air seemed filled with a haze of holy incense, holy with theholiness of beauty. It was one of those mountain days when theimmensity of nature becomes so obvious and so potent that even thebeasts leave off their hunting or their grazing to gaze into wondrousdistances. The sage is green and brash in the near sunlight, soft andpurple out yonder; the hills sharp and hard and detailed under thefaultless sky for unthinkable miles about, then soft and vague, meltingin color and line, rolling, reaching, tossing in a repetition of rangesuntil eyes ache in following them and men are weak about their middlesfrom the feeling of vastnesses to which measurements by figures areprofane.
Jed and Danny searched for horses along two parallel ridges. Now andthen they saw each other, but for the most part it had been a day ofsolitary riding.
Late afternoon arrived, and Danny had about abandoned hope of success.He was considering the advisability of mounting the ridge above thegulch into which he had ridden and locating Jed, though loath to leavethe solitudes.
His pony picked them out and stopped before Danny's eyes registered thesight. The boy searched quickly, and over against a clump of cedars,halfway up the rise, he saw horses.
"No, that's not they," he muttered. "Jed said there were two whitemares among them. Not--"
His pony started under him, gave a sharp little shudder, then moved astep backward and stood still, a barely perceptible tremor shaking hislimbs.
Then a sound new and strange came to Danny. He did not know its origin,but it contained a quality that sent a thrill pulsing from his heart.Shrill it was, but not sharply cut, wavering but not breaking; alarm,warning, concern, caution--the whistle of a stallion! Then silence,while the mares stood rigid and the saddle horse held his breath.
Again it came, and a quick chill struck down Danny's spine. Hissearching eyes encountered the source. There, halfway between the maresand the crown of the ridge he stood, out on a little rim-rock that madea fitting pedestal, alert, defiant, feet firmly planted, with the poiseof a proud monarch.
Even across the distance his coat showed the glossiness seen only onfine, short hair; his chest, turned halfway toward the rider, wassplendid in breadth and depth, indicating superb strength, endurance,high courage. Danny looked with a surge of appreciation at the arch ofthe neck, regal in its slim strength, at the fine, straight limbs,clean as a dancing girl's; at the long, lithe barrel with its finesymmetry.
A wandering breath of breeze came up the gulch, fluttering the wealthof tail, lifting the heavy mane and forelock. The horse raised a frontfoot and smote the ledge on which he stood as though wrath rose that amere man should ride into his presence, and he would demand departureor homage from Danny Lenox. He shook his noble head impatiently, toclear his eyes of the hair that blew about them. And once more came thewhistle.
The mares stirred. One, a bright buckskin, trotted up the rise a dozenyards, and stopped to turn and look. The others moved slowly, eyes andears for Danny.
Again the whistle; a clatter of loosened stones as the black leaderbounded up the hillside; and the bunch was away in his wake.
"The Captain!" Danny breathed, and then, in a cry which echoed down thegulch--"The Captain!"
He was scarcely conscious of his movements, but his quirt fell, hisspurs raked the sides of his pony, and the sturdy little animal, youngand not yet fully developed, doing his best in making up the ridge,labored effectively, perhaps drawn on by that same raw desire whichwent straight to the roots of Danny's spirit and came back to set thefires glowing in his eyes.
The boy rode far forward in his saddle, his gaze on the plunging bandthat scattered stones and dirt as they strove for the top. But he wasmany lengths behind when the last mare disappeared over the rim. Hefanned his pony again, and the beast grunted in his struggles forincreased speed in the climbing, lunging forward with mighty effortswhich netted so little ground.
As he toiled up the last yards Danny saw the Captain again, standingthere against the sky, watching, waiting, mane and tail blowing abouthim. His strong, full, ever delicate body quivered with the singingspirit of confidence within him and communicated itself to the weaklingpursuer. Just a glimpse of the man was all that the black horse wanted,then--he was off.
As Danny's horse caught the first stride in the run down the ridge hesaw the Captain stretch that fine nose out to the flank of a laggingmare, and saw the animal throw her head about in pain as the strongteeth nipped her flesh, commanding more speed.
Danny Lenox was mad! He pulled off his hat and beat his pony's witherswith it. He cried aloud the Captain's name. He went on and on, droppingfar down on his horse's side as they brushed under the cedars, settlingfirmly to the seat when the animal leaped over rocks. His shirt wasopen at the neck, and his throat was chilled with the swift rush ofair, while hot blood swirled close to the skin. His eyes glowed withthe fire set there by this new fascination, the love of beautifulstrength; and through his body sang the will to conquer!
It was an unfair race. Danny and his light young horse had no chance.Off and away drew the stallion and his bunch, without effort after thatfirst crazy break down the ridge. The last Danny saw of him was withhead turned backward, nose lifted, as though he breathed disdainfuldefiance at the man who would come in his wake with the thirst forpossession high within him!
And so the boy pulled up, dropped off, and let his breathing pony rest.His legs were uncertain under him, and he knew that his pulses raced.For many minutes he strove to analyze his emotion but could not.
Jed slid off the next ridge and came up at a trot. His face wasradiant. "Well, he got you, didn't he?" He laughed aloud.
"I thought he would, all along; and I knowed he had you when I see youbreak up over th' ridge. You've got th' fever now, like a lot of th'rest of us! Mebby you'll chase horses here for years, but you'll alwayshave an eye out for just one thing--th' Captain. You won't be satisfieduntil you've got him--like all of us; not satisfied until we've doneth' biggest thing there is in sight to do."
Then, as though parenthetically: "An' when we've done that we've onlyh'isted ourselves up to where we can see that they's a hunderd times asmuch to do."
"Gad, but he goes right into a fellow's heart!" breathed Danny, lookinginto the sunset. "I didn't know I was following him, Jed, until thepony here commenced to tire."
He laughed apologetically, as though confessing a foolishness, but hisface was glowing with a new light. A fresh incentive had come to himwith this awakening admiration, inciting him to emulation. The spiritof the stallion stirred in him again that vibrant chord which had beenurging him to fight on, not to give up.
His ambition to overcome his weakness began to take quick, definitedire
ction. Added to the effort of overcoming his vices would henceforthbe the endeavor to achieve, to compass some worthy object. This was hisaim: to be a leader to whom men would turn for inspiration; to beunconquerable among men, as the Captain was unconquerable among hiskind.
As the ideal took shape, springing full-born from his excitement, DannyLenox felt lifted above himself, felt stronger than human strength,felt as though he were forever beyond human weaknesses.
When they had ridden twenty minutes in silence Jed broke out: "Sonny, Idon't want to act like 'n old woman, but I guess I'm gettin' childish!I've knowed you less than a month. I don't even know who you was whenyou come. We don't ask men about theirselves when they come in here.What a feller wants to tell, we take; what he keeps to hisself wewonder at without mentionin' it.
"But you, sonny--you couldn't keep it from me. I know what it is, Iknow. I seen it when you got off th' train at Colt--seen that somethin'had got you down. I knowed for sure what it was when you stopped by th'saloon there. I knowed how honest you was with yourself in that littlemeetin' with Rhues. I know all about it--'cause I've been through th'same thing--alone, an' years ago."
After a pause he went on: "An' just now, when I seen you comin' downthat ridge after th' Captain, I knowed th' right stuff was inyou--because when a thing like that horse touches a man off it's a signhe's th' right kind, th' kind that wants to do things for th' sake ofknowin' his own strength. You've got th' stuff in you to be a man, butyou're fightin' an awful fight. You need help; you ought to havefriends--you ought to have a daddy!"
He gulped, and for a dozen strides there were no more words.
"I feel like adoptin' you, sonny, 'cause I know. I feel like makin' youa part of this here outfit, which ain't never branded a colt thatdidn't belong to it, which ain't never done nothin' but go straightahead an' be honest with itself, good times an' bad.
"I used to be proud when they called me Old VB, 'cause they all knowedth' brand was on th' level, an' when they, as you might say, put it onme, I felt like I was wearin' some sort of medal. I feel just likemakin' you part of th' VB--Young VB--'cause I can help you herean'--an' 'fore God A'mighty you need help, man that you are!"
An hour and a half later, when the last dish had been wiped, when thedishpan had been hung away, Danny spoke the next words. He walked closeto the old man, his face quiet under the new consciousness of how farhe must go to approach this new ideal. He took the hard old hand in hisown, covered its back with the other, and muttered in a voice that wasfar from clear: "Good night, Old VB."
And the other, to cover the tenderness in his tone, snapped back: "Getto bed, Young VB; they's that ahead of you to-morrow which'll takeevery bit of your courage and strength!"