CHAPTER XVI
THE REPUBLICAN
The outfit were awakened out of sleep the next morning by shouts of"Whoa, _mula_! Whoa, you mongrel outcasts! Catch them blankety blankmules!" accompanied by a rattle of chain harness, and Quince Forrestdashed across our _segundo's_ bed, shaking a harness in each hand. Wekicked the blankets off, and came to our feet in time to see theoffender disappear behind the wagon, while Stallings sat up andyawningly inquired "what other locoed fool had got funny." But thecamp was awake, for the cattle were leisurely leaving the bed ground,while Honeyman, who had been excused from the herd with the first signof dawn, was rustling up the horses in the valley of the Beaver belowcamp. With the understanding that the Republican River was a shortthree days' drive from our present camp, the herd trailed out thefirst day with not an incident to break the monotony of eating andsleeping, grazing and guarding. But near noon of the second day, wewere overtaken by an old, long-whiskered man and a boy of possiblyfifteen. They were riding in a light, rickety vehicle, drawn by asmall Spanish mule and a rough but clean-limbed bay mare. Thestrangers appealed to our sympathy, for they were guileless inappearance, and asked so many questions, indicating that ours mighthave been the first herd of trail cattle they had ever seen. The oldman was a free talker, and innocently allowed us to inveigle it out ofhim that he had been down on the North Beaver, looking up land tohomestead, and was then on his way up to take a look at the landsalong the Republican. We invited him and the boy to remain for dinner,for in that monotonous waste, we would have been only too glad toentertain a bandit, or an angel for that matter, provided he wouldtalk about something else than cattle. In our guest, however, we founda good conversationalist, meaty with stories not eligible to theretired list; and in return, the hospitality of our wagon was his andwelcome. The travel-stained old rascal proved to be a good mixer, andbefore dinner was over he had won us to a man, though Stallings, inthe capacity of foreman, felt it incumbent on him to act the host inbehalf of the outfit. In the course of conversation, the old manmanaged to unearth the fact that our acting foreman was a native ofTennessee, and when he had got it down to town and county, claimedacquaintanceship with a family of men in that locality who were famedas breeders of racehorses. Our guest admitted that he himself was anative of that State, and in his younger days had been a devotee ofthe racecourse, with the name of every horseman in that commonwealthas well as the bluegrass regions of Kentucky on his tongue's end. Butadversity had come upon him, and now he was looking out a new countryin which to begin life over again.
After dinner, when our _remuda_ was corralled to catch fresh mounts,our guest bubbled over with admiration of our horses, and pointed outseveral as promising speed and action. We took his praise of ourhorseflesh as quite a compliment, never suspecting flattery at thehands of this nomadic patriarch. He innocently inquired which wasconsidered the fastest horse in the _remuda_, when Stallings pointedout a brown, belonging to Flood's mount, as the best quarter horse inthe band. He gave him a critical examination, and confessed he wouldnever have picked him for a horse possessing speed, though he admittedthat he was unfamiliar with range-raised horses, this being his firstvisit in the West. Stallings offered to loan him a horse out of hismount, and as the old man had no saddle, our _segundo_ prevailed onMcCann to loan his for the afternoon. I am inclined to think there wasa little jealousy amongst us that afternoon, as to who was bestentitled to entertain our company; and while he showed no partiality,Stallings seemed to monopolize his countryman to our disadvantage. Thetwo jollied along from point to rear and back again, and as theypassed us riders in the swing, Stallings ignored us entirely, thoughthe old man always had a pleasant word as he rode by.
"If we don't do something to wean our _segundo_ from that old man,"said Fox Quarternight, as he rode up and overtook me, "he's liable toquit the herd and follow that old fossil back to Tennessee or someother port. Just look at the two now, will you? Old Joe's putting onas much dog as though he was asking the Colonel for his daughter.Between me and you and the gatepost, Quirk, I'm a little dubiousabout the old varmint--he talks too much."
But I had warmed up to our guest, and gave Fox's criticism very littleweight, well knowing if any one of us had been left in charge, hewould have shown the old man similar courtesies. In this view I wascorrect, for when Stallings had ridden on ahead to look up water thatafternoon, the very man that entirely monopolized our guest for anhour was Mr. John Fox Quarternight. Nor did he jar loose until wereached water, when Stallings cut him off by sending all the men onthe right of the herd to hold the cattle from grazing away until everyhoof had had ample time to drink. During this rest, the old mancirculated around, asking questions as usual, and when I informed himthat, with a half mile of water front, it would take a full hour towater the herd properly, he expressed an innocent amazement whichseemed as simple as sincere. When the wagon and _remuda_ came up, Inoticed the boy had tied his team behind our wagon, and was riding oneof Honeyman's horses bareback, assisting the wrangler in driving thesaddle stock. After the wagon had crossed the creek, and the kegs hadbeen filled and the teams watered, Stallings took the old man with himand the two rode away in the lead of the wagon and _remuda_ to selecta camp and a bed ground for the night. The rest of us grazed thecattle, now thoroughly watered, forward until the wagon was sighted,when, leaving two men as usual to nurse them up to bed, the remainderof us struck out for camp. As I rode in, I sought out my bunkie to gethis opinion regarding our guest. But The Rebel was reticent, as usual,of his opinions of people, so my inquiries remained unanswered, whichonly served to increase my confidence in the old man.
On arriving at camp we found Stallings and Honeyman entertaining ourvisitor in a little game of freeze-out for a dollar a corner, whileMcCann looked wistfully on, as if regretting that his culinary dutiesprevented his joining in. Our arrival should have been the signal toour wrangler for rounding in the _remuda_ for night horses, butStallings was too absorbed in the game even to notice the lateness ofthe hour and order in the saddle stock. Quarternight, however, had afew dollars burning holes in his pocket, and he called our horserustler's attention to the approaching twilight; not that he was inany hurry, but if Honeyman vacated, he saw an opportunity to get intothe game. The foreman gave the necessary order, and Quarternight atonce bargained for the wrangler's remaining beans, and sat into thegame. While we were catching up our night horses, Honeyman told usthat the old man had been joking Stallings about the speed of Flood'sbrown, even going so far as to intimate that he didn't believe thatthe gelding could outrun that old bay harness mare which he wasdriving. He had confessed that he was too hard up to wager much on it,but he would risk a few dollars on his judgment on a running horse anyday. He also said that Stallings had come back at him, more in earnestthan in jest, that if he really thought his harness mare could outrunthe brown, he could win every dollar the outfit had. They had coddedone another until Joe had shown some spirit, when the old mansuggested they play a little game of cards for fun, but Stallings hadinsisted on stakes to make it interesting, and on the old homesteaderpleading poverty, they had agreed to make it for a dollar on thecorner. After supper our _segundo_ wanted to renew the game; the oldman protested that he was too unlucky and could not afford to lose,but was finally persuaded to play one more game, "just to pass awaythe evening." Well, the evening passed, and within the short space oftwo hours, there also passed to the supposed lean purse of our guestsome twenty dollars from the feverish pockets of the outfit. Then theold man felt too sleepy to play any longer, but loitered around sometime, and casually inquired of his boy if he had picketed their marewhere she would get a good bait of grass. This naturally brought upthe proposed race for discussion.
"If you really think that that old bay palfrey of yours can outrun anyhorse in our _remuda_," said Stallings, tauntingly, "you're missingthe chance of your life not to pick up a few honest dollars as youjourney along. You stay with us to-morrow, and when we meet ourforeman at the Republican, if he'll loan me the horse, I'll giv
e you arace for any sum you name, just to show you that I've got a few dropsof sporting blood in me. And if your mare can outrun a cow, you standan easy chance to win some money."
Our visitor met Joe's bantering in a timid manner. Before turning in,however, he informed us that he appreciated our hospitality, but thathe expected to make an early drive in the morning to the Republican,where he might camp several days. With this the old man and the boyunrolled their blankets, and both were soon sound asleep. Then our_segundo_ quietly took Fox Quarternight off to one side, and I heardthe latter agree to call him when the third guard was aroused. Havingnotified Honeyman that he would stand his own watch that night,Stallings, with the rest of the outfit, soon joined the old man in theland of dreams. Instead of the rough shaking which was customary onarousing a guard, when we of the third watch were called, we wereawakened in a manner so cautious as to betoken something unusual inthe air. The atmosphere of mystery soon cleared after reaching theherd, when Bob Blades informed us that it was the intention ofStallings and Quarternight to steal the old man's harness mare off thepicket rope, and run her against their night horses in a trial race.Like love and war, everything is fair in horse racing, but theaudacity of this proposition almost passed belief. Both Blades andDurham remained on guard with us, and before we had circled the herdhalf a dozen times, the two conspirators came riding up to the bedground, leading the bay mare. There was a good moon that night;Quarternight exchanged mounts with John Officer, as the latter had asplendid night horse that had outstripped the outfit in every stampedeso far, and our _segundo_ and the second guard rode out of hearing ofboth herd and camp to try out the horses.
After an hour, the quartette returned, and under solemn pledges ofsecrecy Stallings said, "Why, that old bay harness mare can't run fastenough to keep up with a funeral. I rode her myself, and if she's gotany run in her, rowel and quirt won't bring it out. That chestnut ofJohn's ran away from her as if she was hobbled and side-lined, whilethis coyote of mine threw dust in her face every jump in the road fromthe word 'go.' If the old man isn't bluffing and will hack his mare,we'll get back our freeze-out money with good interest. Mind you, now,we must keep it a dead secret from Flood--that we've tried the mare;he might get funny and tip the old man."
We all swore great oaths that Flood should never hear a breath of it.The conspirators and their accomplices rode into camp, and we resumedour sentinel rounds. I had some money, and figured that betting in acinch like this would be like finding money in the road.
But The Rebel, when we were returning from guard, said, "Tom, you keepout of this race the boys are trying to jump up. I've met a good manyinnocent men in my life, and there's something about this old man thatreminds me of people who have an axe to grind. Let the other fellowsrun on the rope if they want to, but you keep your money in yourpocket. Take an older man's advice this once. And I'm going to roundup John in the morning, and try and beat a little sense into his head,for he thinks it's a dead immortal cinch."
I had made it a rule, during our brief acquaintance, never to arguematters with my bunkie, well knowing that his years and experience inthe ways of the world entitled his advice to my earnest consideration.So I kept silent, though secretly wishing he had not taken the troubleto throw cold water on my hopes, for I had built several air castleswith the money which seemed within my grasp. We had been out then overfour months, and I, like many of the other boys, was getting ragged,and with Ogalalla within a week's drive, a town which it took money tosee properly, I thought it a burning shame to let this opportunitypass. When I awoke the next morning the camp was astir, and my firstlook was in the direction of the harness mare, grazing peacefully onthe picket rope where she had been tethered the night before.
Breakfast over, our venerable visitor harnessed in his team,preparatory to starting. Stallings had made it a point to return tothe herd for a parting word.
"Well, if you must go on ahead," said Joe to the old man, as thelatter was ready to depart, "remember that you can get action on yourmoney, if you still think that your bay mare can outrun that brown cowhorse which I pointed out to you yesterday. You needn't let yourpoverty interfere, for we'll run you to suit your purse, light orheavy. The herd will reach the river by the middle of the afternoon,or a little later, and you be sure and stay overnight there,--staywith us if you want to,--and we'll make up a little race for any sumyou say, from marbles and chalk to a hundred dollars. I may be asbadly deceived in your mare as I think you are in my horse; but ifyou're a Tennesseean, here's your chance."
But beyond giving Stallings his word that he would see him againduring the afternoon or evening, the old man would make no definiteproposition, and drove away. There was a difference of opinion amongstthe outfit, some asserting that we would never see him again, whilethe larger portion of us were at least hopeful that we would. Afterour guest was well out of sight, and before the wagon started,Stallings corralled the _remuda_ a second time, and taking out Flood'sbrown and Officer's chestnut, tried the two horses for a short dash ofabout a hundred yards. The trial confirmed the general opinion of theoutfit, for the brown outran the chestnut over four lengths, startinghalf a neck in the rear. A general canvass of the outfit was taken,and to my surprise there was over three hundred dollars amongst us. Ihad over forty dollars, but I only promised to loan mine if it wasneeded, while Priest refused flat-footed either to lend or bet his. Iwanted to bet, and it would grieve me to the quick if there was anychance and I didn't take it--but I was young then.
Flood met us at noon about seven miles out from the Republican withthe superintendent of a cattle company in Montana, and, before westarted the herd after dinner, had sold our _remuda_, wagon, and mulesfor delivery at the nearest railroad point to the Blackfoot Agencysometime during September. This cattle company, so we afterwardslearned from Flood, had headquarters at Helena, while their rangeswere somewhere on the headwaters of the Missouri. But the sale of thehorses seemed to us an insignificant matter, compared with the racewhich was on the tapis; and when Stallings had made the ablest talk ofhis life for the loan of the brown, Flood asked the new owner, a Texanhimself, if he had any objections.
"Certainly not," said he; "let the boys have a little fun. I'm glad toknow that the _remuda_ has fast horses in it. Why didn't you tell me,Flood?--I might have paid you extra if I had known I was buyingracehorses. Be sure and have the race come off this evening, for Iwant to see it."
And he was not only good enough to give his consent, but added a wordof advice. "There's a deadfall down here on the river," said he, "thatrobs a man going and coming. They've got booze to sell you that wouldmake a pet rabbit fight a wolf. And if you can't stand the whiskey,why, they have skin games running to fleece you as fast as you can getyour money to the centre. Be sure, lads, and let both their whiskeyand cards alone."
While changing mounts after dinner, Stallings caught out the brownhorse and tied him behind the wagon, while Flood and the horse buyerreturned to the river in the conveyance, our foreman having left hishorse at the ford. When we reached the Republican with the herd abouttwo hours before sundown, and while we were crossing and watering, whoshould ride up on the Spanish mule but our Tennessee friend. Ifanything, he was a trifle more talkative and boastful than before,which was easily accounted for, as it was evident that he wasdrinking; and producing a large bottle which had but a few drinks leftin it, insisted on every one taking a drink with him. He said he wasencamped half a mile down the river, and that he would race his mareagainst our horse for fifty dollars; that if we were in earnest, andwould go back with him and post our money at the tent, he would coverit. Then Stallings in turn became crafty and diplomatic, and afterasking a number of unimportant questions regarding conditions,returned to the joint with the old man, taking Fox Quarternight. Tothe rest of us it looked as though there was going to be no chance tobet a dollar even. But after the herd had been watered and we hadgrazed out some distance from the river, the two worthies returned.They had posted their money, and all the conditions were agreed
upon;the race was to take place at sundown over at the saloon and gamblingjoint. In reply to an earnest inquiry by Bob Blades, the outfit wereinformed that we might get some side bets with the gamblers, but themoney already posted was theirs, win or lose. This selfishness was notlooked upon very favorably, and some harsh comments were made, butStallings and Quarternight were immovable.
We had an early supper, and pressing in McCann to assist The Rebel ingrazing the herd until our return, the cavalcade set out, Flood andthe horse buyer with us. My bunkie urged me to let him keep my money,but under the pretense of some of the outfit wanting to borrow it, Itook it with me. The race was to be catch weights, and as Rod Wheatwas the lightest in our outfit, the riding fell to him. On the wayover I worked Bull Durham out to one side, and after explaining thejacketing I had got from Priest, and the partial promise I had madenot to bet, gave him my forty dollars to wager for me if he got achance. Bull and I were good friends, and on the understanding that itwas to be a secret, I intimated that some of the velvet would line hispurse. On reaching the tent, we found about half a dozen men loiteringaround, among them the old man, who promptly invited us all to have adrink with him. A number of us accepted and took a chance against thevintage of this canvas roadhouse, though the warnings of the Montanahorse buyer were fully justified by the quality of the goodsdispensed. While taking the drink, the old man was lamenting hispoverty, which kept him from betting more money, and after we had goneoutside, the saloonkeeper came and said to him, in a burst of generousfeeling,--
"Old sport, you're a stranger to me, but I can see at a glance thatyou're a dead game man. Now, if you need any more money, just give mea bill of sale of your mare and mule, and I'll advance you a hundred.Of course I know nothing about the merits of the two horses, but Inoticed your team as you drove up to-day, and if you can use any moremoney, just ask for it."
The old man jumped at the proposition in delighted surprise; the tworeentered the tent, and after killing considerable time in writing outa bill of sale, the old graybeard came out shaking a roll of bills atus. He was promptly accommodated, Bull Durham making the first bet offifty; and as I caught his eye, I walked away, shaking hands withmyself over my crafty scheme. When the old man's money was all taken,the hangers-on of the place became enthusiastic over the betting, andtook every bet while there was a dollar in sight amongst our crowd,the horse buyer even making a wager. When we were out of money theyoffered to bet against our saddles, six-shooters, and watches. Floodwarned us not to bet our saddles, but Quarternight and Stallings hadalready wagered theirs, and were stripping them from their horses toturn them over to the saloonkeeper as stakeholder. I managed to get aten-dollar bet on my six-shooter, though it was worth double themoney, and a similar amount on my watch. When the betting ended, everywatch and six-shooter in the outfit was in the hands of thestakeholder, and had it not been for Flood our saddles would have beenin the same hands.
It was to be a three hundred yard race, with an ask and answer startbetween the riders. Stallings and the old man stepped off the courseparallel with the river, and laid a rope on the ground to mark thestart and the finish. The sun had already set and twilight wasdeepening when the old man signaled to his boy in the distance tobring up the mare. Wheat was slowly walking the brown horse over thecourse, when the boy came up, cantering the mare, blanketed with anold government blanket, over the imaginary track also. Thesepreliminaries thrilled us like the tuning of a fiddle for a dance.Stallings and the old homesteader went out to the starting point togive the riders the terms of the race, while the remainder of uscongregated at the finish. It was getting dusk when the blanket wasstripped from the mare and the riders began jockeying for a start. Inthat twilight stillness we could hear the question, "Are you ready?"and the answer "No," as the two jockeys came up to the starting rope.But finally there was an affirmative answer, and the two horses werecoming through like arrows in their flight. My heart stood still forthe time being, and when the bay mare crossed the rope at the outcomean easy winner, I was speechless. Such a crestfallen-looking lot ofmen as we were would be hard to conceive. We had been beaten, and notonly felt it but looked it. Flood brought us to our senses by callingour attention to the approaching darkness, and setting off in a galloptoward the herd. The rest of us trailed along silently after him inthrees and fours. After the herd had been bedded and we had gone in tothe wagon my spirits were slightly lightened at the sight of the twoarch conspirators, Stallings and Quarternight, meekly riding inbareback. I enjoyed the laughter of The Rebel and McCann at theirplight; but when my bunkie noticed my six-shooter missing, and Iadmitted having bet it, he turned the laugh on me.
"That's right, son," he said; "don't you take anybody's advice. You'reyoung yet, but you'll learn. And when you learn it for yourself,you'll remember it that much better."
That night when we were on guard together, I eased my conscience bymaking a clean breast of the whole affair to my bunkie, which resultedin his loaning me ten dollars with which to redeem, my six-shooter inthe morning. But the other boys, with the exception of Officer, had nobanker to call on as we had, and when Quarternight and Stallings askedthe foreman what they were to do for saddles, the latter suggestedthat one of them could use the cook's, while the other could take itbareback or ride in the wagon. But the Montana man interceded in theirbehalf, and Flood finally gave in and advanced them enough to redeemtheir saddles. Our foreman had no great amount of money with him, butMcCann and the horse buyer came to the rescue for what they had, andthe guns were redeemed; not that they were needed, but we would havebeen so lonesome without them. I had worn one so long I didn't trimwell without it, but toppled forward and couldn't maintain my balance.But the most cruel exposure of the whole affair occurred when NatStraw, riding in ahead of his herd, overtook us one day out fromOgalalla.
"I met old 'Says I' Littlefield," said Nat, "back at the ford of theRepublican, and he tells me that they won over five hundred dollarsoff this Circle Dot outfit on a horse race. He showed me a wholebasketful of your watches. I used to meet old 'Says I' over on theChisholm trail, and he's a foxy old innocent. He told me that he puttar on his harness mare's back to see if you fellows had stolen thenag off the picket rope at night, and when he found you had, he robbedyou to a finish. He knew you fool Texans would bet your last dollar onsuch a cinch. That's one of his tricks. You see the mare you triedwasn't the one you ran the race against. I've seen them both, and theylook as much alike as two pint bottles. My, but you fellows are easyfish!"
And then Jim Flood lay down on the grass and laughed until the tearscame into his eyes, and we understood that there were tricks in othertrades than ours.