CHAPTER VI

  BOOTS

  The green of the prairie had given way to brown, and the brown to white,which rolled off to the sky-line and the hills in dazzling billows, inthe cold light of the sun. For winter had the Bar O in its grip. Andthough winter was no gentle thing in Montana, there was a tingle in thecold, sharp air that made a boy want to whoop and to get on hissnowshoes and go after rabbits, which wise old Nature had also turnedwhite, so that they could blend in with the color of the landscape andthe better avoid their enemies. Not that Injun ever whooped; he neverdid. His people always had reserved that form of expression for warlikepurposes.

  There were many things the boys could do in winter, but these wereforgotten for a time by Whitey, for a great event was about to takeplace. His father was to return to the ranch from New York, stoppingover at St. Paul, on his way, to buy supplies. And as the snow was nottoo deep for sleighing, Whitey drove down to the Junction, with BillJordan, to meet Mr. Sherwood. And outside Whitey was all wrapped up in abuffalo coat, and inside he was so warm with excitement that the coatseemed hardly necessary.

  Now, of course, Whitey was awfully glad to see his father, and to hearthe news about his mother and sisters, and about Tom Johnson, and Georgeand Bobby Smith, and others of his boy friends. But after he had heardall this there was another thing that naturally came to his mind. Mr.Sherwood would not come back to the ranch without bringing Whitey somesort of present, and his father was singularly silent about what thiswas. In fact, he had not said anything about it at all. And it was aftersupper, and Mr. Sherwood was unpacking his trunk, when he rathercarelessly said, "Oh, here's something I brought for you," and gaveWhitey a parcel.

  Whitey thanked his father, and undid the parcel, and he dropped thethings that were in it, and his eyes popped out, and for a moment hecould hardly breathe, he was so excited, for they were Boots!

  And when Whitey recovered a bit he rushed over and actually hugged hisfather.

  Perhaps you would like to know why a pair of boots would cause all thisfeeling in Whitey. For one thing, it was because he never had owned any.In New York all the boys wore shoes, and when Whitey had come to theranch he had worn them, too, until the soles of his feet had become hardenough, like Injun's, for him to go barefoot, which he delighted indoing.

  But in the late fall, and the spring, when it was colder, he againfollowed Injun's lead, and wore moccasins. Buckskin moccasins, withlittle bead decorations. In the cold of winter, when the snow was deep,and when the big thaws came, Whitey wore heavy, moccasin-likemuck-lucks, made of buckskin, which laced high, nearly to his knees, andover the tops of which hung the tops of heavy, woolen socks.

  These comprised Injun and Whitey's footwear for the seasons. But therewas one thing that Whitey envied the cowboys on the ranch their boots.For you must know that there are two things on which a puncher spendshis money extravagantly--his boots and his saddle. Unless he happens tobe a Mexican--then he spends it on his hat, too.

  So the dream of Whitey's life, the pinnacle of his ambition, the idea ofthe tip-top of ecstatic happiness that lived in his brainwas--Boots. And now he had them. And they were beauties; withtops of soft leather with fancy stitching, inlaid with white enameledleather, and high heels, that a fellow could dig into the ground when hewas roping a horse. In short, they were regular boots, that any onemight be proud of. And they had been made to order for Whitey!

  It would be useless to attempt a description of how Whitey felt aboutthose boots. Shakespeare would have to come back to life to do that, andI doubt if he could have done it. I _know_ that Bacon could not.Whitey's first impulse was to put the boots on, and go out and show themto all the men in the bunk house. His next impulse was to save thesurprise till morning, when the decorations on the boots would showbetter.

  But he put them on. And after his father had finished unpacking, Whiteysat in the living-room with him, and it is to be feared that he listenedrather absent-mindedly to his father's talk. He would stretch out hislegs and admire the boots. Then he would twist his feet about so that hecould get a good view of the high heels. Then he would double up hisknees, and fairly hug the boots. And if Mr. Sherwood noticed all this hegave no sign. Probably he remembered the day he had his first pair ofboots. And that night, though Whitey did not sleep in the boots, he tookthem to bed with him.

  In the morning Whitey restrained his impatience until breakfast-time,then strolled down to the bunk house, wearing the boots. Several of themen were there, just finishing the meal, and rolling theirafter-breakfast cigarettes. Whitey sat down, sort of offhand andcareless-like, and to his pained surprise, no one noticed the boots.Then he crossed his legs and leaned back, with his hands clasped behindhis head--and Buck Higgins noticed them.

  And Whitey certainly was gratified, for they attracted a great deal ofadmiration and praise, and there was much discussion about them, andfeeling of the leather, and estimating how much they cost. After a whileInjun arrived. Now, Injun did not care about boots, though he might haveliked a pair had they been made of pink leather. But even Injun wasmoved to admiration by these boots.

  Then Whitey strutted around the ranch buildings and corrals for a while,and the milch cows, and the horses and the pigs--all the stock, infact--had a good look at the boots. And Sitting Bull admired them somuch that he wanted to lick them, but of course that wouldn't do.

  Bill Jordan had an errand at the Junction and he drove Whitey and Injunover with him. Al Strong's store was also the postoffice, and every man,woman, and child that happened to be there at mail-time had a fine viewof Whitey's boots. That night, when Whitey went to bed, he was quitetired from exhibiting them.

  The next day Whitey figured that about every human being and animal inthe neighborhood had seen his boots. Then he happened to think of theIndians fishing on the river. I say _on_ the river, for it was frozenover, with its first solid covering of ice. Now, the Indians never fishin the summer-time. Few white people know about it, but the Indiansdon't like to fish. They only eat fish when they can't hunt much. Whenthe Indian goes into camp for the winter, he has his provisions allstacked to carry him through, but to be sure that these provisions willhold out, he will eat just a little fish.

  And this is the Indian's mode of fishing. He puts up a tepee right outon the ice, and puts a blanket inside the tepee. Then he cuts a hole inthe ice, and lies down on the blanket and industriously watches thehole. You know that fish are very inquisitive, and when Mr. InquiringFish comes along to see about that hole, Mr. Indian spears him just backof the head, pulls him out, and has fried fish for supper.

  When Whitey beat it down to the river, to show his boots to a newaudience, he was followed by Injun and Sitting Bull. Trouble wasfollowing, too,--Harrowing Trouble,--but Whitey didn't know it. On thefrozen river were about a dozen tepees, standing up something like bigstacks of cornstalks on a field of frosted glass. So there probably wereabout a dozen Indians, lying on their stomachs, watching as many holesin the ice.

  There was not one of those Indians that Whitey thought should missseeing those boots. In the first tepee his reception was verygratifying. Little Eagle was the owner's name, and _he_ didn't care muchabout boots, but the decorations on these pleased his taste for thegaudy, and his eyes sparkled as he grunted his praise.

  So it went around the little fishing village, until Whitey entered aboutthe eighth tepee, and that was where Trouble was right next to him.Inside the tent it was dark. And Whitey didn't fall into the hole in theice--he walked into it. His life was not in danger, because he didn'tmind a little cold water, and the Indian lying there on his stomach,with his eyes accustomed to the darkness, could see, and he quicklygrabbed Whitey by the shoulders and yanked him out--but, oh! the boots!

  They were crinkled and soaked and water-logged and shrunken. And it tooksix Indians to get them off, two pulling on each boot, and two to holdWhitey. And when they were off, Whitey borrowed a pair of moccasins, andraced to the ranch house, with Injun and Sitting Bull.

  Now, in th
e living-room of the Bar O ranch house in winter--and in everyother ranch house in that part of the country--was a big stove that helda stick of cordwood three feet long. In fact, it held four or five suchsticks of cordwood, which, you can imagine, made a good fire. Andstraight to this fire went Whitey. He was wet, and he was ashamed. Andhe put the boots under the stove to dry, without anybody's seeing him.And he didn't say anything to his father about it, because he wasashamed. And he went to bed without saying anything about it.

  In the morning Whitey was up with the sun, and went to get his boots.And, oh, ye gods! Why didn't the heavens fall? What once was a pair ofproud boots, looked like two little, brown wrinkled apples! It was atragedy in six acts. It was worse than that, for one can find words fora tragedy. But why dwell on it?

  And while Whitey was getting the worst of the first, horrible shock, hisfather came into the living-room, and not knowing why, Whitey ran, andhis father, not knowing why, I suspect, ran after him. Whitey was fleetof foot, and much smaller than his father, so he could make the stairsbetter. And he ran up and down and around, now slamming this door, andnow slamming that one.

  And Whitey's father began to get angry. But Whitey had become a frontierboy, and accustomed to standing his ground in the face of a superiorenemy--at least, when he couldn't run any farther. When he was finallyrun down, he backed into a corner, lifted his fists to the proper angle,and, in this boyish fighting attitude, said to his big, strong,wonderful dad, "Don't you hit me!"

  If it hadn't been for his father's strong sense of humor, Whiteyprobably would have been in for a sound trimming. As it was, his fatherpaused and looked at him sternly; then his piercing blue eyes began tosoften, and signs of his sense of humor began to appear about his mouth.And he turned on his heel, and walked away, leaving Whitey to his grief.

 
William S. Hart's Novels