CHAPTER XII
A GIFT
Warned by John Corliss of Loring's evident intent to graze his sheep onthe west side of the Concho River, the cattle-men held a quiet meetingat the ranch of the Concho and voted unanimously to round up a monthearlier than usual. The market was at a fair level. Beef was indemand. Moreover, the round-up would, by the mere physical presence ofthe riders and the cattle, check for the time being any such move asLoring contemplated, as the camps would be at the ford. Meanwhile thecattle-men again petitioned the Ranger at Antelope to stir up theservice at Washington in regard to grazing allotments.
The round-up began. The Concho outfit moved camp to the ford andSundown had his first introduction to real work. From morning tillnight and far into the night the fires were going. Groups of belatedriders swung in and made for the chuck-wagons. Sundown, following astrenuous eighteen hours of uninterrupted toil, solemnly borrowed apiece of "tarp" from his outfit on which he lettered the legend:--
"CAFE DE CONCHO--MEELS AT ALL HOURS--PRIVIT TABELS FOR LADYS"
He hung the tarp in a conspicuous place and retired to rest. Thefollowing morning his efforts were applauded with much picturesqueexpletive, and even criticism was evoked by a lean puncher who insisted"that the tall guy might be a good cook all right, but he sure didn'tknow how to spell 'calf.'" Naturally the puncher's erudition leanedtoward cattle and the range.
At all times conspicuous, for he topped by a head and shoulders thetallest rider on the range. Sundown became doubly conspicuous as thestory of his experience with the hold-ups and his rescue of Chancebecame known. If he strutted, it was pardonable, for he strutted amongmen difficult to wrest approval from, and he had won their approval.
At Hi Wingle's suggestion, he "packed a gun"--a formidable .45 lent himby that gracious individual, for it grieved the solid Wingle's soul tosee so notable a character go unarmed. Sundown, like many a wiser man,was not indifferent to the effect of clothing and equipment. Obligedfrequently to relate his midnight adventure with the robbers, he becamea past-master in the art of dramatic expression. "If I'd 'a' had megun with me," he was wont to say, slapping the holster significantly,"the deal might 'a' turned out different. I reckon it's luck Ididn't." Which may have been true enough, for Sundown wouldundoubtedly have been afraid to use the weapon and Fadeaway might havemisunderstood his bungling.
In his spare time he built a lean-to of odds and ends, and beneath itChance drowsed away the long, sunny hours while Sundown was rustlingfirewood or holding hot argument with an obstreperous dutch-oven. AndChance became the pet and the pride of the outfit. Riders from distantranches would stray over to the lean-to and look at him, commenting onhis size and elaborating on the fact that it usually took two of thebest dogs ever whelped to pull down a timber-wolf.
Even Fadeaway, now riding for the Blue, became enthusiastic and boastedof his former friendship with Chance. When he essayed the intimacy ofpatting the dog's head, some of the onlookers doubted him, for Chancereceived these overtures with a deep-throated growl.
"He won't let nobody touch him but that Sundown gent," cautioned abystander.
"Guess he's loco since he got chewed up," said Fadeaway, retreating.
Chance licked his wounds and recovered slowly. He would lie in thesun, watching with unwinking gaze the camp and the cluster of men aboutit until the form of Sundown loomed through the mass. Then he wouldbeat the ground with his tail and whine expectantly. As he becamestronger, he ventured to stretch his wound-stiffened muscles in shortpilgrimages to the camp, where the men welcomed him with hearty andprofane zest. Was he not the slayer of their enemy's sheep and thekiller of the timber-wolf? Eventually he was presented with a broadcollar studded with brass spikes, and engraved upon it was thesanguinary and somewhat ambiguous legend: "Chance--The Killer of theConcho."
John Corliss, visiting the round-up, rode over to Sundown's tepee, asit was called. The assistant cook was greasing Chance's wounds.
"How is he getting along?" asked Corliss.
"Fine, boss, fine! This here is some little ole red-cross ward,believe me! He's gettin' over bein' lame and he eats regular."
"Here, Chance!" called Corliss.
The dog rose stiffly and stalked to his master, smelt of him and waggedhis tail, then stood with lowered head as though pondering some seriousdog-logic.
"He's kind of queer," explained Sundown, "but he's a whole pile betterthan he was a spell ago. Had to bring him water and feed him like ababy cuttin' teeth--though I never seen one doin' that. He wouldn'tlet nobody touch him 'ceptin' me."
"Is he able to travel?"
"Oh, some."
"Think he could make it to the Concho?"
Sundown hesitated. "Mebby. Yes, I reckon he could. He can run allright, only I guess he kind of likes hangin' around me." And Sundownglanced sideways at Corliss.
"He seems all right. I guess I'll take him back with me. I don't likethe idea of his running loose here."
"He ain't bitin' nobody," assured Sundown.
Corliss glanced shrewdly at the other's lean, questioning face. "Guessyou won't miss him much. How are you making it?"
"Me? Fine! Reckon I'll take out me papers for a full-chested rangecook afore long. You see the L.D. outfit says that I could have a jobwith them after the round-up. It kind of leaked out about them pies.'Course they was joshin', mebby. I dunno."
"The L.D. boys are all right," said Corliss. "If you want to make achange--"
"See here, boss! I done some ramblin' in my time. Guess because I waslookin' for somethin' new and excitin'. Well, I reckon they's plentynew and excitin' right to home on the Concho. Any time I get tired offallin' off hosses, and gettin' beat up, and mixin' up in dog and wolffights, why, I can go to bustin' broncos to keep me from goin' tosleep. Then Chance there, he needs lookin' after."
Corliss seemingly ignored the gentle hint. He mounted and called tothe dog. Chance made no movement to follow him. Corliss frowned."Here, Chance!" he commanded, slapping his thigh with his gauntletedhand. The dog followed at the horse's heels as Corliss rode across thehard-packed circle around the camp. Sundown's throat tightened. Hispal was gone.
He puttered about, straightening the blankets. "Gee Gosh! but thishere shack looks empty! Never knowed sick folks could be so muchcomp'ny. And Chance is folks, all right. Talk about blue blood! Huh!I reckon a thoroughbred dog is prouder than common folks, like me.Some king, he was! Layin' there lookin' out at them punchers and hiseyes sad-like and proud, and turnin' his head slow, watchin' 'em likethey was workin' for him. They's somethin' about class that gets afella, even in a dog. And most folks knows it, but won't let on."
He took Chance's drinking-basin--a bread-pan appropriated from theoutfit--and the frayed saddle-blanket that had been the dog's bed, andcarried them to the cottonwoods edging the river. There he hid thethings. He returned to the lean-to and threw himself on his blankets.He felt as though he had just buried a friend. A cowboy strolled upand squatted in front of the lean-to. He gazed at the interior, noddedto Sundown, and rolled a cigarette. He smoked for a while, glanced upat the sky, peered round the camp, and shrugged his shoulders.
Sundown nodded. "You said it all, Joe. He's gone."
The cowboy blew rings of smoke, watching them spread and dissolve inthe evening air. "Had a hoss onct," he began slowly,--"ornery,glass-eyed, she-colt that got mixed up in a bob-wire fence. Seein' asshe was like to make the buzzards happy 'most any day, I took tonussin' her. Me, Joe Scott, eh? And a laugh comin'. Well, the boysjoshed--mebby you hearn some of 'em call me Doc. That's why. The boysjoshed and went around like they was in a horsepital, quiet andsteppin' catty. I could write a book out of them joshin's and sellher, if I could write her with a brandin'-iron or a rope. Anyhow, thecolt she gets well and I turns her out on the range, which ought to bethe end of the story, but it ain't. She come nickerin' after me like Iwas her man, hangin' around when I showed up at the ranch jest like Iwas a
millionaire and she wantin' to get married. Couldn't get shet ofher. So one day I ropes her and says to myself I'll make a trick hossof her and sell her. The fust trick she done wasn't the one I reckonedto learn her. She lifted me one in the jeans and I like to lost allthe teeth in my head. 'You're welcome, lady,' says I, 'for this here'fectionate token of thanks for my nussin' and gettin' joshed tofare-ye-well. Bein' set on learnin' her, I shortened the rope and lether kick a few holes in the climate. When she got tired of that, Ibegins workin' on her head, easy-like and talkin' kind. Fust thing Iknowed she takes a san'wich out of my shirt, the meat part bein' apiece of my hide. Then I got riled. I lit into her with the boots,and we had it. When I got tired of exercisin' my feet, she comes to merubbin' her nose ag'in' me and kind of nickerin' and lovin' uptremendous, bein' a she-hoss. 'Now,' says I, 'I'm goin' to do thecourtin', sister.' And I sot out to learn her to shake hands. She gotmost as good as a state senator at it: purfessional-like, but not realglad to see you. Jest put on. Then I learns her to nod yes. That washard. Then I gets her so she would lay down and stay till I told herto get up. 'Course it takes time and I didn't have the time reg'lar.I feeds her every time, though. Then she took to sleepin' ag'in' thebunk-house every night, seein' as she run loose jest like a dog. Whensomebody'd get up in the mornin', there she would be with her eyeslookin' in the winder, shinin', and her ears lookin' in, too. You seeshe was waitin' for her beau to come out, which was me. She took tofollowin' me on the range when I rid out, and she got fat and sizable.The boys give up joshin' and got kind of interested. But that ain'twhat I'm gettin' at. Come one day, about two year after I'd beenmonkeyin' with learnin' her her lessons, when I thinks to break her toride. I got shet of the idea of sellin' her and was goin' to keep hermyself. The boys was lookin' for to see me get piled, always figurin'a pet hoss was worse to break than a bronc. She did some fussin', butshe never bucked--never pitched a move. Thinks I, I sure got a winner.Next day she was gone. Never seen her after that. Trailed all overthe range, but she sure vamoosed. And nobody never seen her afterthat. She sure made a dent in my feelin's."
Sundown sat up blinking. "I reckon that's the difference between ahoss and a dog," he said, slowly. "Now, a hoss and me ain't what you'dcall a nacheral combination. And a hoss gets away and don't come back.But a dog comes back every time, if he can. 'Most any hoss will staywhere the feedin' is good, but a dog won't. He wants to be where hisboss is."
"And that there Chance is with the boss," said the cowboy, gesturingtoward the north. "Seen him foller him down the trail."
Sundown nodded. The cowboy departed, swaggering away in the dusk.
Just before Sundown was called to take his turn with the night-shift, alean, brown shape tore through the camp, upsetting a pot of frijolesand otherwise disturbing the peace and order of the culinary department.
"Coyote!" shouted Wingle, vainly reaching for the gun that he had givento Sundown.
"Coyote nothin'!" said a puncher, laughing. "It's the Killer come backhot-foot to find his pardner."
Chance bounded into the lean-to: it was empty. He sniffed at the placewhere his bed had once been, found Sundown's tracks and followed themtoward the river. Sundown was on his knees pawing over something thatlooked very much like a torn and frayed saddle-blanket. Chancevolleyed into him, biting playfully at his sleeve, and whining.
Sundown jumped to his feet. He stood speechless. Then a slow grincrept to his face. "Gee Gosh!" he said, softly. "Gee Gosh! It's you!"
Chance lay down panting. He had come far and fast. Sundown gatheredup the blanket and pan, rose and marched to the shack. "I was airin''em out against your comin' back," he explained, untruthfully. Thefact was that he could not bear to see the empty bed in the lean-to andhad hidden it in the bushes.
The dog watched him spread the blanket, but would not lie down.Instead he followed Sundown to the camp and found a place under thechuck-wagon, where he watched his lean companion work over the firesuntil midnight. If Sundown disappeared for a minute in search ofsomething. Chance was up and at his heels. Hi Wingle expressedhimself profanely in regard to the return of the dog, adding withunction, "There's a pair of 'em; a pair of 'em." Which ambiguityseemed to satisfy him immensely.
When Sundown finally returned to the lean-to, he was too happy tosleep. He built a small fire, rolled a cigarette and sat gazing intothe flames. Chance sat beside him, proud, dignified, contented.Sundown became drowsy and slept, his head fallen forward and his leanarms crossed upon his knees. Chance waited patiently for him to waken.Finally the dog nuzzled Sundown's arm with little jerks of impatience."What's bitin' you now?" mumbled Sundown. "We're here, ain't we?"Nevertheless he slipped his arm around the dog's muscular shoulders andtalked to him. "How'd you get away? The boss'll raise peelin's overthis, Chance. It ain't like to set good with him." He noticed thatChance frequently scratched at his collar as though it irritated him.Finally he slipped his fingers under the collar. "Suthin' got ketchedin here," he said, unbuckling the strap. Tied inside the collar was afolded piece of paper. Sundown was about to throw it away when hereconsidered and unfolded it. In the flickering light of the fire hespread the paper and read laboriously:--
"Chance followed me to the Concho because I made him come. He showedthat he didn't want to stay. I let him go. If he gets back to you,keep him. He is yours.
"JOHN CORLISS."
Sundown folded the note and carefully tucked it in his pocket. He roseand slapped his chest grandiloquently. "Chance, ole pal," he said witha brave gesture, "you're mine! Got the dockyments to show. What doyou think?"
Chance, with mouth open and lolling tongue, seemed to be laughing.
Sundown reached out his long arm as one who greets a friend.
The dog extended his muscular fore leg and solemnly placed his paw inSundown's hand. No document was required to substantiate hisallegiance to his new master, nor his new master's title to ownership.Despite genealogy, each was in his way a thoroughbred.