CHAPTER NINE
PAT, A NICE DOGGUMS
"'The human polyp incessantly builds upon a coral reef. They becomelithified as it were and constitute the strata of the psychozoicstage'--I told you the butter's at the spring. Will you leave me alone?That's the third page I've spoiled over psycho-what-you-call-it. Go onback and herd your goats, and for gracious sake, can that tulip-and-rosesong! I hate it." Helen May ripped a page with two carbon copies out ofthe machine, pulled out the carbons and crumpled three sheets of paperinto a ball which she threw into a far corner.
"Gee, but you're pecky to-day! You act like an extra slammed into a soblead and gettin' up stage about it. I wish that long-worded hide hadnever showed up with his soiled package of nut science. A feller can't_live_ with you, by gosh, since you--"
"Well, listen to this, Vic! 'There is a radical difference betweenorganic and social evolution, the formula most easily expressing thisdistinction being that environment transforms the animal, while mantransforms the environment. This transformation--'"
"Hel-up! Hel-up!" Vic went staggering out of the door with his palmpressed against his forehead in the gesture meant to register greatmental agony, while his face was split with that nearly famous comedygrin of his. "Serves you right," he flung hack at her in his normal toneof brotherly condescension. "The way you fell for that nut, like you wasa starved squirrel shut up in a peanut wagon, by gosh! Hope you're boggeddown in jawbreakers the rest of the summer. Serves yuh right, but youneedn't think you can take it out on me. And," he draped himself aroundthe door jamb to add pointedly, "you should worry about the tulip song.If I'm willing to stand for you yawping day and night about the sungrowin' co-old, and all that bunk--"
"Oh, beat it, and shut up!" Helen May looked up from evening the edges offresh paper and carbon to say sharply: "You better take a look and seewhere Billy is. And I'll tell you one thing: If you go and lose any moregoats, you needn't think for a minute that I'll walk my head off gettingthem for you."
"Aw, where do you get that line--walk your head off? I seem to remember aclose-up of you riding home on horseback with moonlight atmosphere and afellow to drive your goats. And you giving him the baby-eyed stare likehe was a screen idol and you was an extra that was strong for him.Bu-lieve me, Helen Blazes, I'm wise. You're wishing a goat would getlost--now, while the moon's workin' steady!"
"Oh, beat it, Vic! I've got work to do, if you haven't." And to prove it,Helen May began to type at her best speed.
Vic languidly removed himself from the door jamb and with a parting "Ishould bibble," started back to his goats, which he had refused to grazeoutside the Basin as Holman Sommers advised. Helen May began valiantly tostruggle with the fine, symmetrical, but almost unreadable chirography ofthe man of many words. She succeeded in transcribing the human polypproperly lithified and correctly constituting the strata of thepsychozoic age, when Vic stuck his head in at the door again.
"From the des-urt he comes to thee-ee-ee,And he's got a dog for thee to see-ee."
He paraphrased mockingly, going down to that terrifically deep-sea bassnote of a boy whose voice is changing.
Helen May threw her eraser at him and missed. It went hurtling out intothe yard and struck Starr on the point of the jaw, as he was riding up tothe cabin.
Whereat Vic gave a brazenly exultant whoop and rushed off to his goats,bellowing raucously:
"When you wore a too-lup, a sweet yellow too-lup'N I wore a big red ro-o-ose--"
and looking back frequently in a half curious, half wistful way. Vic, ifyou will stop to think of it, had been transplanted rather suddenly fromthe midst of many happy-go-lucky companions to an isolation lightenedonly by a mere sister's vicarious comradeship. If he yearned secretly fora share of Starr's interest, surely no one can blame him; but that heshould voluntarily remove himself from Starr's presence in the beliefthat he had come to see Helen May exclusively, proves that Vic had themakings of a hero.
Starr dismounted and picked up the eraser from under the investigativenose of a coarse-haired, ugly, brown and black dog that had beenfollowing Rabbit's heels. He took the eraser to Helen May, standingembarrassed in the doorway, and the dog followed and sniffed first herslipper toes and then her hands, which she held out to it ingratiatingly;after which appraisement the dog waggled its stub of a tail in token ofhis friendliness.
"If you was a Mexican he'd a showed you his teeth," Starr observedpridefully. "How are you, after your jaunt the other night?"
"Just fine," Helen May testified graciously. It just happened (or had itjust happened?) that she was dressed that day in a white crepe de chineblouse and a white corduroy skirt, and had on white slippers and whitestockings. At the top button of her blouse (she could not have touchedthat button with her chin if she had tried) was a brown velvet bow theexact shade of her eyes. Her hair was done low and loose with a negligentwave where it turned back from her left eyebrow. Peter had worshippeddumbly his Babe in that particular dress, and had considered herbeautiful. One cannot wonder then that Starr's eyes paid tribute with asecond long glance.
Starr had ridden a good many miles out of his way and had argued for agood while, and had finally paid a good many dollars to get the dog thatsniffed and wagged at Helen May. The dog was a thoroughbred Airedale andhad been taught from its puppyhood to herd goats and fight all intrudersupon his flock and to hate Mexicans wherever he met them. He had learnedto do both very thoroughly, hence the argument and the dollars necessarybefore Starr could gain possession of him.
Starr did not need a dog; certainly not that dog. He had no goats toherd, and he could hate Mexicana without any help or encouragement whenthey needed hating. But he had not grudged the trouble and expense,because Helen May needed it. He might have earned more gratitude had hetold her the truth instead of hiding it like guilt. This was his way ofgoing at the subject, and he waited, mind you, until he had announcednonchalantly that he must be getting along, and that he had just stoppedto get a drink and to see how they were making out!
"Blame dog's taken a notion to you. Followed me out from town. I throwedrocks at him till my arm ached--"
"Why, you mean thing! You might have hit him and hurt him, and he's anice dog. Poor old purp! Did he throw rocks, honest? He _did_? Well, justfor that, I've got a nice ham bone that you can have to gnaw on, and hecan't have a snippy bit of it. All he can do is eat a piece of lemon piethat will probably make him sick. We hope so, don't we? Throwing rocks ata nice, ugly, stubby dog that wanted to follow!"
Starr accepted the pie gratefully and looked properly ashamed of himself.The dog accepted the ham bone and immediately stretched himself out withhis nose and front paws hugging it close, and growling threats atimaginary vandals. Now and then he glanced up gratefully at Helen May,who continued to speak of him in a commiserating tone.
"He sure has taken a notion to you," Starr persisted between mouthfuls."You can have him, for all of me. I don't want the blame cur tagging mearound. I'm liable to take a shot at him if I get peeved oversomething--"
"You dare!" Helen May regarded him sternly from under her lashes, herchin tilted downward. "Do you always take a shot at something when youget peeved?"
"Well, I'm liable to," Starr admitted darkly. "A dog especially. Youbetter keep him if you don't want him hurt or anything." He took a biteof pie. (It was not very good pie. The crust was soggy because JohnnyCalvert's cook stove was not a good baker, and the frosting had gonewatery, because the eggs were stale, and Helen May had made a mistake andused too much sugar in the filling; but Starr liked it, anyway, justbecause she had made it.) "Maybe you can learn him to herd goats," hesuggested, as though the idea had just occurred to him.
"Oh, I wonder if he would! Would you, doggums?"
"We'll try him a whirl and see," Starr offered cheerfully. He finishedthe pie in one more swallow, handed back the plate, and wiped hisfingers, man-fashion, on his trousers.
"Come on, Pat. He likes Pat for a name," he explained carefully to HelenMay. "I called him about e
very name I could think of, and that's the onehe seems to sabe most."
"I should say he does! Why, he left his bone when you called Pat. Nowthat's a shame, doggums!"
"Oh, well, we'll let him polish off his bone first." Starr made the offerwith praiseworthy cheerfulness, and sat down on his heels with his backagainst the adobe wall to wait the dog's pleasure.
"Well, that makes up for some of the rocks," Helen May approvedgenerously, "and for some of the names you say you called him. And thatreminds me, Man of the Desert, I suppose you have a name of some sort. Inever heard what it was. Is it--Smith, perhaps?"
"My name's Starr," he told her, with a little glow under the tan of hischeeks. "S, t, a, double r, Starr. I forgot I never told you. I've got acouple of given names, but I'd want to shoot a man that called me by'em. Folks always call me just Starr, and maybe a few other thingsbehind my back."
Helen May dropped her chin and looked at him steadily from under hereyebrows. "If there's anything that drives me perfectly wild," she saidfinally, "it's a mystery. I've just simply got to know what those namesare. I'll never mention them, honest. But--"
"Chauncy DeWitt," Starr confessed. "Forget 'em. They was wished onto mewhen I wasn't able to defend myself."
"Given names are horrid things, aren't they?" Helen May sympathized."I think mine is perfectly imbecile. Fathers and mothers shouldn't beallowed to choose names for their children. They ought to wait tillthe kids are big enough to choose for themselves. If I ever have any,I'll call them It. When they grow up they can name themselves anythingthey like."
"You've got no right to kick," Starr declared bluntly. "Your name suitsyou fine."
His eyes said more than that, so that Helen May gave her attention to thedog. "There, now, you've licked it and polished it and left teeth marksall over it," she said, meaning the bone. "Come on, Pat, and let's see ifyou're a trained doggums." She looked up at Starr and smiled. "Suppose hestarts running after them; he might chase them clear off the ranch, andthen what?"
"I guess the supply of rocks'll hold out," Starr hinted, and snapped hisfingers at the dog, which went to heel as a matter of course.
"If you throw rocks at that dog, I'll throw rocks at you," Helen Maythreatened viciously.
"And I'll hit, and you'll miss," Starr added placidly. "Come on, let'sget busy and see if you deserved that bone."
Helen May had learned from uncomfortable experience that high-heeledslippers are not made for tramping over rocks and sand. She said that shewould come as soon as she put on some shoes; but Starr chose to wait forher, though he pretended, to himself as much as to her, that he must takethe bridle off Rabbit and let him pick a few mouthfuls of grass while hehad the chance. Also he loosened the cinch and killed a fly or two onRabbit's neck, and so managed to put in the time until Helen May appearedin her khaki skirt and her high boots.
"That's the sensible outfit for this work," Starr plucked up courage tocomment as they started off. "That kid brother of yours must get prettylonesome too, out here," he added. "If you had some one to stay with you,I'd take him out on a trip with me once in a while and show him thecountry and let him learn to handle himself with a horse and gun. Afellow's got to learn, in this country. So have you. How about it? Evershoot a gun, either of you?"
"Vic used to keep me broke, begging money for the shooting gallery downnear our place," said Helen May. "I used to shoot there a little."
"Popgun stuff, but good practice," said Starr succinctly. "Got a gun onthe ranch?"
"No, only Vic's little single-shot twenty-two. That's good enough forjack rabbits. What would we want a gun for?"
Starr laughed. "Season's always open for coyotes, and you could pick up alittle money in bounties now and then, if you had a gun," he said. "Thatwould keep you out in the open, too. I dunno but what I've got a rifle Icould let you have. I did have one, a little too light a calibre for me,but it would be just about right for you. It's a 25-35 carbine. I'm rightsure I've got that gun on hand yet. I'll bring it over to you. You sureought to have a gun."
They were nearing the goats scattered over the slope that was shadiest,chosen for Vic's comfort and not because of any thought for his charges.Vic himself was sprawled in the shade of a huge rock, and for pastime hewas throwing rocks at every ground squirrel that poked its nose out of ahole. The two hundred goats were scattered far and wide, but as long asBilly was nibbling a bush within sight, Vic did not worry about the rest.He lifted himself to a sitting posture and grinned when the two came up.
"Didn't think to bring any pie, I s'pose?" he hinted broadly, and grinnedcompanionably at Starr.
"You've had two handouts since lunch. I guess you'll last another hour,"Helen May retorted unfeelingly. "See the dog that followed Mr. Starr outfrom town, Vic! We're going to see if he can herd goats."
"Well, if he can, he's got my permission, that's a cinch."
"I do believe he can; see him look at them! His name's Pat, and he likesme awfully well."
"Now, where does he get that idea?" taunted Vic, and winked openly atStarr, who was good enough to smile over what he considered a verypoor joke.
"Well, let's see you bunch 'em, Pat." Starr made a wide, sweeping gesturewith his left arm, his eyes darting a quick look at the girl.
Pat looked up at him, waggled his stub of a tail, and darted down theslope to the left, now and then uttering a yelp. Scattered goats liftedheads to look, their jaws working comically sidewise as though they feltthey must dispose of that particular mouthful before something happenedto prevent. As Pat neared them, they scrambled away from him, running tothe right, which was toward the bulk of the band.
Down into the Basin itself the dog ran, after a couple of goats that hadstrayed out into the level. These he drove back in a panic of haste,dodging this way and that, nipping, yelping now and then, until they hadjoined the others. Then he went on to the further fringes of the hand,which evened like the edge of a pie crust under the practised fingers ofa good cook.
"Well, would you look at that!" Helen May never having watched a goodsheep-dog at work, spoke in an awed tone. "Vic, please write!"
Vic, watching open-mouthed, actually forgot to resent the implicationthat Pat had left him hopelessly behind in the art of handling goats.
"Seems to have the savvy, all right," Starr observed, just as though hehad not paid all those dollars for the "savvy" that made Pat one of thebest goat dogs in the State.
"Savvy? Why, that dog's human. Now, I suppose he's stopping over there tosee what he must do next, is he?"
"Wants to know whether I want 'em all rounded up, or just edged up outathe Basin. G' round 'em, Pat," he called, and made a wide, circular sweepwith his right arm.
Pat gave a yelp, dropped his head, and scurried up the ridge, driving allstragglers back toward the center of the flock. He went to every crestand sniffed into the wind to satisfy himself that none had strayed beyondhis sight; returned and evened up the ragged edges of the hand, and thencame trotting back to Starr with six inches of pink tongue draped overhis lower jaw and a smile in his eyes and a waggle of satisfaction atloved work well done. The goats, with a meek Billy in the foreground,huddled in a compact mass on the slope and eyed the dog as they had nevereyed Vic, for all his hoe-handle and his accuracy with rocks.
Helen May dropped her hand on Pat's head and looked soberly into hisupturned eyes. "You're a perfect miracle of a dog, so you can't be mydog, after all," she said. "Your owner will be riding day and night tofind you. I know I should, if you got lost from me." Then she looked atStarr. "Don't you think you really ought to take him back with you?It--somehow it doesn't seem quite right to keep a dog that knows somuch. Why, the man I bought the goats from had a dog that could herdthem, and he wanted twenty-five dollars for it, and at that, he claimedhe was putting the price awfully low for me, just because I was a lady,you know."
Starr, was (as he put it) kicking himself for having lied himselfinto this dilemma. Also he was wondering how best he might liehimself out of it.
r /> "You want to look out for these marks that say they're giving you the bigend of a bargain just because you're a lady," he said. "Chances arethey're figuring right then on doing you. If that fellow had gottwenty-five dollars for his dog, take it from me, he wouldn't have lostanything."
"Well, but do you think it would he right to keep this dog?"
Since she put it that way, Starr felt better. "I sure do. Keep him anywaytill he's called for. When I go back, I'll find out where he comes from;and when I've located the owner, maybe I'll be able to fix it up with himsomehow. You sure ought to have a dog. So let it stand that way. I'lltell yuh when to give him up."
Helen May opened her lips, and Starr, to forestall argument and to savehis soul from further sin, turned toward the dog. "Bring 'em home, Pat,"he said, and then started toward the corral, which was down below thespring. "Watch him drive," he said to Helen May and so managed todistract her attention from the ethics of the case.
Without any assistance, Pat drove the goats to the corral. More thanthat, at Starr's command, he split the band and held half of them aloofwhile the rest went in. He sent these straight down the Basin until Starrrecalled him, when he swung back and corralled them with the others. Hecame then toward the three for further orders, whereupon Vic, who hadbeen silent from sheer amazement, gave a sudden whoop.
"Hey, Pat! You forgot something. Go back and put up the bars!" heyelled. Then he heaved his hoe-handle far from him and stretched his armshigh over his head like one released from an onerous task. "I'll walk outand let Pat have my job," he said. "Herding goats is dog's work anyhow,and I told you so the first day, Helen Blazes. Hadn't herded 'em fiveminutes before I knew I wasn't cut out for a farmer."
"Go on, Pat; you stay with your goats," Starr commanded gently. And Pat,because he had suckled a nanny goat when he was a pup, and had grown upwith her kid, and had lived with goats all his life, trotted into thecorral, found himself a likeable spot near the gate, snuffed it all over,turned around twice, and curled himself down upon it in perfect content.
"He'll stay there all night," Starr told them, laying the bars in theirsockets. "It's a little early to corral 'em, sundown is about the regulartime, but it's a good scheme to give him plenty of time to get acquaintedwith the layout. You get up early, Vic, and let 'em out on the far sideof the ridge. Pat'll do the rest. I'll have to jog along now."
"Well, say," Vic objected, rubbing his tousled blond hair into adistracted, upstanding condition, "I wish you'd show me just howyou shift his gears. How the dickens do you do it? He don't knowwhat you say."
Before he left, Starr showed him the gestures, and Vic that eveningpractised them so enthusiastically that he nearly drove Helen May wild.Perhaps that is why, when she was copying a sentence where Holman Sommershad mentioned the stars of the universe, Helen May spelled stars,"Starr's" and did not notice the mistake at all.