Part 40 (1/2)

When she had finished, Bud blew his nose sonorously. ”I know that tune,”

he said, gazing at Dorothy in a sort of huge wonderment. ”But I never knowed all that you made it say.”

He rose and shuffled to the doorway, stopping abruptly as he saw Bondsman. Could it be possible that Bondsman had not recognized his own tune? Bud shook his head. There was something wrong somewhere. Bondsman had not offered to come in and accompany the pianist. He must have been asleep. But Bondsman had not been asleep. He rose and padded to Shoop's horse, where he stood, a statue of rugged patience, waiting for Shoop to start back toward home.

”Now, look at that!” exclaimed Bud. ”He's tellin' me if I want to get back to Jason in time to catch the stage to-morrow mornin' I got to hustle. That there dog bosses me around somethin' scandalous.”

When Shoop had gone, Dorothy turned to her father. ”Mr. Shoop didn't ask me to play very much. He seemed in a hurry.”

”That's all right, Peter Pan. He liked your playing. But he has a very important matter to attend to.”

”He's really just delicious, isn't he?”

”If you like that word, Peter. He is big and sincere and kind.”

”Oh, so were some of the saints for that matter,” said Dorothy, making a humorous mouth at her father.

Chapter XXIII

_Like One Who Sleeps_

Bondsman sat in the doorway of the supervisor's office, gazing dejectedly at the store across the street. He knew that his master had gone to St. Johns and would go to Stacey. He had been told all about that, and had followed Shoop to the automobile stage, where it stood, sand-scarred, muddy, and ragged as to tires, in front of the post-office. Bondsman had watched the driver rope the lean mail bags to the running-board, crank up the st.u.r.dy old road warrior of the desert, and step in beside the supervisor. There had been no other pa.s.sengers.

And while Shoop had told Bondsman that he would be away some little time, Bondsman would have known it without the telling. His master had worn a coat--a black coat--and a new black Stetson. Moreover, he had donned a white s.h.i.+rt and a narrow hint of a collar with a black ”shoe-string” necktie. If Bondsman had lacked any further proof of his master's intention to journey far, the canvas telescope suitcase would have been conclusive evidence.

The dog sat in the doorway of the office, oblivious to the clerk's friendly a.s.surances that his master would return poco tiempo. Bondsman was not deceived by this kindly attempt to soothe his loneliness.

Toward evening the up-stage buzzed into town. Bondsman trotted over to it, watched a rancher and his wife alight, sniffed at them incuriously, and trotted back to the office. That settled it. His master would be away indefinitely.

When the clerk locked up that evening, Bondsman had disappeared.

As Bronson stepped from his cabin the following morning he was startled to see the big Airedale leap from the veranda of Shoop's cabin and bound toward him. Then he understood. The camp had been Bondsman's home. The supervisor had gone to Criswell. Evidently the dog preferred the lonely freedom of the Blue Mesa to the monotonous confines of town.

Bronson called to his daughter. ”We have a visitor this morning, Dorothy.”

”Why, it's Bondsman! Where is Mr. Shoop?”

”Most natural question. Mr. Shoop had to leave Jason on business.

Bondsman couldn't go, so he trotted up here to pay us a visit.”

”He's hungry. I know it. Come, Bondsman.”

From that moment he attached himself to Dorothy, following her about that day and the next and the next. But when night came he invariably trotted over to Shoop's cabin and slept on the veranda. Dorothy wondered why he would not sleep at their camp.

”He's very friendly,” she told her father. ”He will play and chase sticks and growl, and pretend to bite when I tickle him, but he does it all with a kind of mental reservation. Yesterday, when we were having our regular frolic after breakfast, he stopped suddenly and stood looking out across the mesa, and it was only my pony, just coming from the edge of the woods. Bondsman tries to be polite, but he is really just pa.s.sing the time while he is waiting for Mr. Shoop.”

”You don't feel flattered, perhaps. But don't you admire him all the more for it?”

”I believe I do. Poor Bondsman! It's just like being a social pet, isn't it? Have to appear happy whether you are or not.”