CHAPTER VIII
THE TEST
After a week of weeding in the vegetable garden, Collie was put to workrepairing fence. There were many miles of it, inclosing some twentythousand acres of grazing-land, and the cross-fencing of the oat,alfalfa, fruit, and vegetable acreage. The fence was forever in need ofrepair. The heavy winter rains, torrential in the mountains, oftenwashed away entire hillsides, leaving a dozen or so staggering postsheld together by the wires, tangled and sagging. Cattle frequentlypulled loosened posts from the earth by kneeling under the wire andworking through, oblivious to the barbs. Again, "stock gone a littleloco" would often charge straight through the rigid and ripping wirebarriers as though their strands were of thread. Posts would split inthe sun, and staples would drop out, leaving sagging spaces which cattlenever failed to find and take advantage of. Trees uprooted by the rainand wind would often fall across the fence.
Altogether, the maintaining of a serviceable fence-line on awell-ordered ranch necessitates eternal vigilance.
The Moonstone Rancho was well ordered under the direct supervision ofWalter Stone's foreman, "Brand" Williams. Williams was a Wyoming cowmanof the old school; taciturn, lean, sinewy.
Some ten years before, Williams, seeking employment, had ridden over therange with Stone. Returning, the cowman remarked disconsolately, "I likeyour stock, and I'll tie to you. But, say, it's only playin' at ranchin'on twenty thousand fenced. I was raised in Wyoming."
"All right," Stone had replied. "Play hard and we'll get alongfirst-rate."
Every inch of Brand Williams's six feet was steeped in the astringent ofexperience. He played hard and prospered, as did his employer.
Collie stood awaiting the foreman's instructions.
"Ever mend fence?" asked Williams.
"Nope."
"Good. Then you can learn right. Go rope a cayuse--get some staples andthat leetle axe in my office, and go to it. There's plenty fence."
The "Go rope a cayuse" momentarily staggered the boy, but he wentsilently to the corral, secured a riata, and by puzzling the playfulponies by his amateur tactics he finally entangled "Baldy," awhite-faced cow-pony of peaceful mien but uncertain disposition.
Williams, watching the performance, lazily rolled a straw-papercigarette.
Snubbed to the post, bridled and saddled awkwardly, Baldy gave nooutward sign of his malignant inward intent of getting rid of the ladthe minute he mounted.
Williams slowly drew a match across his sleeve from elbow to wrist,ending with a flame that was extremely convenient to his cigarette. Hewasted no effort at anything. He was a man who never met a yawn halfway,but only gave in to it when actually obliged to. Collie climbed into thesaddle and started for the corral gate. He arrived there far ahead ofthe horse. He got to his feet and brushed his knees. The pony washumping round the corral with marvelous agility for so old a horse.
"He never did like a left-handed man," said Williams gravely. "Next timeget on him from the _other_ side, and see if he don't behave. Hold on;don't be in a hurry. Let him throw a few more jumps, then he'll quit forto-day most likely. And say, son, if he does take to buckin' with youagain, don't choke that saddle to death hangin' on to the horn. Set upstraight, lean a little back, and clinch your knees. You'll get piled,anyhow, but you might as well start right."
The boy approached the horse again, secured the dangling reins, andagain mounted. Baldy was as demure as a spinster in church. He actuallylooked pious.
Collie urged the pony toward the gate. Baldy reared.
"A spade bit ain't made to pull teeth with, although you can," saidWilliams. "Baldy's old, but his teeth are all good yet. Just easy now.Ride in your saddle, not on your reins. That's it! And say, kid, I would'a' got them staples and that axe before crawlin' the hoss, eh?"
Collie flushed. He dismounted and walked to the foreman's office. Whenhe returned to the corral, the horse was gone. Williams still sat on thecorral bars smoking and gazing earnestly at nothing.
Round the corner of the stable Collie saw the pony, his nose peacefullysubmerged in the water-trough, but his eye wide and vigilant. The boyran toward him. Baldy snorted and, wheeling, ran back into the corral,circled it with an expression which said plainly, "Let us play a littlegame of tag, in which, my young friend, you shall always be 'It.'"
Again Collie tried to rope the pony.
"Want any help?" asked Williams, as he slid from the corral bars to theground.
"Nope." And Collie disentangled his legs from an amazing contortion ofthe riata and tried to whirl the loop as he had seen the cowmen whirlit.
"Hold on, son!" said Williams. "You mean right, but don't go to rope himwith the saddle on. If you looped that horn, he, like as not, would yankyou clean to Calabasas before you got your feet out of that mess of ropeyou're standin' in. Anyway, you ain't goin' to Calabasas; you're due upthe other way."
Collie was learning things rapidly, and, better still, he was learningin a way that would cause him to remember.
Williams spoke sharply to the pony. Baldy stopped and eyed the foremanwith vapid inquisitiveness. "Now, son, I got three things to tell you,"and the foreman gathered up the reins. "First--keep on keepin' yourmouth shut and tendin' to business. It pays. Second--always drop yourreins over a hoss's head when you get off, whether he's trained that wayor not. And last--always figure a hoss thinks he knows more than you do.Sometimes he does. Sometimes he don't. Then he won't fool you sofrequent, for you'll be watchin' him. I wouldn't 'a' said that much,only you're a tenderfoot from the East, I hear. If you was a tenderfootfrom the West, you would 'a' had to take your own medicine."
Collie's shoulder was lame from his fall and was becoming stiff, but hegrinned cheerfully, and said nothing, which pleased Williams.
The foreman leveled his slow, keen eyes at him for a minute. "You'llfind a spring under the live-oaks by the third cross-fence north. Reckonyou'll get there about noon. Keep your eye peeled for fire. I thought Iseen somebody up there as I come across from the corral early thismornin'. We come close to burnin' out here once, account of a hobo'sfire. Understand, if you ketch anybody cantelopin' around _a-foot_, youjust ride 'em off the range pronto. That's all."
As Collie rode away through the morning sunshine, Williams loafed acrossthe corral, roped and saddled a white-eyed pinto, and, spurring up anarrow canon west of the ranch buildings, disappeared round a turn ofthe shady trail. As the foreman rode, he alternately talked to the ponyand himself.
"Tramp, eh?" he said, addressing the pony. "What do you say, Sarko?Nothin', eh? Same as me.... Overland Red's kid pal, eh? Huh! I knowedJack Summers, Red Jack Summers, down in Sonora in '83. Mexico was someopen country then. Jack was a white pardner, too. Went to the bad,account of that Chola girl that he was courtin' goin' wrong.... Funnyhow the boss come to pick up that kid. Thinks there's somethin' in him.O' course they is. But what? Eh, Sarko, what? You say nothin', same asme.... Here, you! That's a lizard, you fool hoss. Never seen one before,so you're try in' to catch it by jumpin' through your bridle after it,eh? Never seen one before, oh, no! Don't like that, eh? Well, you quit,and I will. Exactly. It's me, and my ole Spanish spurs. I'mlistenin'.... Nothin' to say?... Uhuh! I reckon little Louise hadsomethin' to do with gettin' the kid the job. Well, if _she_ likes him,I got to. Guess I'd love a snake if she said to. Yes, I'm listenin' tomyself ..." And the taciturn foreman's hard, weathered face wrinkled ina smile. "I'm listenin' ... None of the boys know Red's camped up by thespring. I do. Red used to be a damn white Injun in the old days. I'llgive the kid a chance to put him wise for old times. And I'll find outif the kid means business or not ... which is some help to know how tohandle him later."
Williams picketed his pony in the meadow above the third cross-fence.Loafing down the slope toward the spring, he noticed the faint smoke ofa fire. Farther down the line fence, he could see Collie in thedistance, riding slowly toward the three live-oaks. The foreman found aconvenient seat on a ledge, rolled another of his eternal cigarettes,and watched the boy approac
h from below.
Collie had already dismounted three times that morning; twice to mendfence, and once more involuntarily. He determined, with a mighty vow tothe bow-legged god of all horseflesh, to learn to stay on a broncho ordie learning.
The boy had a native fondness for animals, and he had already thought ofbuying a pony with his first few months' wages. But the vision of hiserstwhile companion Overland, perhaps imprisoned and hopeless in thegrip of the "bunch," annulled that desire. He would save every cent forthat emergency.
Arrived at the spring, both boy and horse drank gratefully, for the daywas hot. Then Collie noticed the thin smoke coming through the trees andstrode toward it.
"It ain't much of a fire yet," said Overland. "Our hired girl--" and hegrinned through a two-weeks' tangle of red beard. "Oh, but ain't he the'cute little workin'-man with his little ole hoss and his garments oftoil."
"Oh, Red!" exclaimed the boy.
"Me sure! I been hidin' in my whiskers so long I didn't know if you'dknow me."
"I been thinking about you every day."
"Uhuh. So have I. I reckon some others has, too. Say, what you beendoin' lately, studyin' law or learnin' the piano? I been lookin' foryou for a week. It's the first day I seen you out on the range."
"I was working in the garden first. Then they put me at this, thismornin'."
"Uhuh. Well, Col, that there getaway of mine is in all the papers.'Tramp Cowboy Steals Horse and Escapes.' Say, did she yip about myborrowin' the cayuse?"
"She was mad at first. But your fancy ridin' kind of made her forget. Itold her you was square, Red."
"Huh! I guess she could tell that herself."
"But, Red, I'm not kidding. I told her uncle about the bunch and the guyon the desert."
"Did he believe it?"
"I guess so. He ain't said much. But he gives me the chance to makegood. He must have believed somethin'."
"Well, stick to it, Collie. You never was cut out for a genuine toweristlike me, anyhow. It ain't in your blood."
"What you goin' to do now, Red?"
"Me? Listen! There's gold out there, somewhere. I'm broke now. I needsome dough. I got ideas. Ten dollars does it. I get a new set of clothesand get shaved and me hair trimmed close. Then I commence me good workin Main Street, in Los. Down on North Main is where I catch the gentfrom the East who will fall for anything that wears a Stetson and someoutdoors complexion. I tell all about my ledge in the Mojave and getstaked to go out and prospect. It's bein' done every day--it and theother fella."
"But, Red--"
"Hold on, kid. I ain't goin' to bunk nobody. This here's square. I needfinancin'--a burro and a grubstake and me for the big dry spot. Ship theoutfit to the desert town, and then hit it along the rails to where wehid it. If the papers we hid is any good, me to locate the ledge.Anyhow, there's a good five hundred in the poke, and that's better thana kick in the pants."
"You'll get pinched sure, Red."
"Nix, kiddo. Not out there. Money talks. 'Course it ain't makin' anydistressin' sounds around here jest now, but, say, got the makin's?"
"I ain't smoked since I been here, Red."
"Excuse me, Miss Collie. What denomination did you say?"
"Straight, Red. I'm savin' my money."
"What do they pay you for settin' on that cayuse?"
"Fifteen a month, and board, and the horse to ride."
"Don't mention the hoss, pal. Jest make motions with your hands when youmean him. Talkin' is apt to wake him up."
"He pitched me twice."
"Just havin' bad dreams, that's all," said Overland, grinning. "Fifteena month and found ain't bad for a bum, is it?"
"Cut that out, Red. I ain't no bum."
"Ex-cuse me. There I gone and laminated your feelin's again. Why in helldon't you blush, or drop your little ole lace handkerchief, or fix yourback hair, so I can remember I'm talkin' to a lady? It ain't manners,this here impersonatin' you're a boy like that."
"Quit your kiddin', Red. Mebby you think it was easy to cut out the oldstuff, and everybody on the ranch on to what I used to be. I was cryin'the first night. I was lonesome for you."
Overland's eyelids flickered. He grinned. "Uhuh! I could hear you cleanover in the Simi Valley. I was thinkin' of comin' right back, only--"
"Oh, if you think I'm lyin to you--"
Overland thrust up a soiled palm. "Nix; you never did yet. How much coincan you rustle?"
"I got that eight-and-a-half I had when we was pinched. It's down to thebunk-house."
"Well, bring it up here to-morrow mornin'. And, say, swipe a sogun forme. I near froze last night."
Collie's brows drew together. "I'll bring the money, sure! but I can'tswipe no blanket, even for you. The boss thinks I'm square, and so doesshe. I'll bring tobacco and papers. Got any grub?"
"Well, some. I ain't exactly livin' on sagebrush and scenery yet. I beentrainin' some chickens to do the Texas Tommy. Every one that learns todo it in one lesson gets presented with a large hot fryin'-pan.Surprisin' how them chickens is fond of dancin'. I reckon I learned sixof 'em since I seen you last. But don't forget the eight rollers andfour bits. I need ten, but eight-fifty will do. I'll have to leave outthe silk pejammies and the rosewater this trip. But kickie pants is goodenough for me to sleep in. How's that sheriff gent?"
"Busted his collar-bone and killed his horse."
"I'm sad for the hoss. How do you like livin' decent?"
"Fine, Red! I wish you would--"
"Hold on, Collie, not me! I'm gettin' too old, too plumb old anddisgusted with this vale of steers to change and tie down to shortgrass. Now you're near enough to the age of that little Louise girl tomake life interestin'."
"Who said anything about her?"
"Whoa, Chico! Back up. You're steppin' on your bridle. Don't go 'waymad. Why, I said somethin' about her, that's who. You got any idea ofhobblin' my talk?"
"No. But--"
"Oh, you can't flim your ole pal, nohow. You're just commencin' life onwhat that little Louise lady thinks you ought to be. And you will be itsome day, if you keep straight. So will I."
"You?" Collie was unable to associate a reconstructive idea withOverland's mode of life.
"Say! Just as if I never knowed a good woman. Say, I could actooly giveup smokin' for her, if I had to hire some guy to do it for me. That'swhat I think of her. When I get me plush rags and the dizzy lid, I'llcall around in me private caboose and take you both for a little ride."
For a moment the boy gazed away to where the silver of the SouthernPacific rails glinted in the valley. Overland Red's presence broughtback poignantly the long, lazy days of loafing and the wide, starrynights of wayside fire, tobacco, and talk. There was a charm in the freelife of the road--that long gray road that never ended--never ended inthe quiet shade of a mountain ranch or in the rose-bordered pathway to avalley cottage. The long gray road held out no promise of rest for wornand aged folk. After all, its only freedom was the freedom of eternalwandering ... until one could adventure no longer ... and then? Betterto tread the harder path of duty.
The boy's black eyes were lifted pleadingly. "Red," he saidhesitatingly. "Red, I got to tell you to camp the other side of thatline fence till I come to-morrow."
Overland understood instantly that the lad was but following generalinstructions. He loved the boy, and so, perversely, worked upon hisfeelings. "Oh, the _other_ side? Ex-cuse me, chief, for intrudin' onthis here resavation. Sorry I'm crowdin' you so."
"Now, Red, wait--"
"Wait? What, for you to insult your ole pal again by tellin' him hemight drink all the water in this here spring, mebby, or inflooence themorals of the cattle, or steal the wire off the fence? Huh! I thought Iwas your _pal_?"
"Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders."
"You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilizationdoes is to projooce hobos and bums. Then she turns up her nose becausehobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get m
adbecause one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Catshas got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent ofcrawlin' under that line fence?"
"'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't gonow, why, I got to quit this job. I got to play square to him."
"So it's orders or me, eh?"
"Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too."
Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily:"And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? Youwould give up the job and the chance of a smile from that littleRose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"
"Sure I would. You come first and the job comes second; but--but I wantto keep the job."
Overland's keen blue eyes filled with instant emotion. "Oh, you go chasea snake up your sleeve. Do you think I'd bust your chances of makin'good here? Do you reckon I'd let a line fence stand between me and you,speakin' poetical? Say, I'll go camp in that sheriff gent's front yardif it'll do any good to you, or before I'll see you in bad with thelittle Rose Girl!"
"Please, Red; I mean it."
"So do I. I'll fade quicker than spit on a hot stove. Don't forgetto-morrow mornin'. Some day I'll put you hep to how to ride. You betterget to your fence job."
Brand Williams watched the man and the boy as they walked along theline-fence trail together. Collie leading the pony, the man talking andgesticulating earnestly. Finally they shook hands. The tramp crawledunder the fence. The boy mounted Baldy and rode away.
Williams, catching up his own horse, spurred quickly across the ridgeabove the spring that the boy might not see him.