Part 37 (2/2)

from the Friar the same as if he had the measles; and I don't covet to be a b.u.m no more.”

This gives ya the best idy of the Friar that I can think of; and I finally fell asleep there at Bill Duff's, with my mind made up to bury my own heartache, keep the grave of it green, but live out my life as hard as the Friar was livin' his.

We had intended to projec about in the Basin next day to rustle up some new trade in the Friar's line; but my pony turned up lame, so we held over to get him shod. When the stage pulled in that evenin', me an' the Friar went down to see it. A little feller sat on the seat with the driver. His hat was covered with dust an' pulled down over his eyes, an' what ya could see of him was the color o' coffee; but the moment I lay eyes on his side-burns, I grabbed the Friar's arm an'

whispered, ”Horace!” and by dad, that's who it was. Promotheus was in the back seat, an' he looked for all the world like an enlarged copy, except that his side-burns were red an' gray, while Horace's were mostly brown. But they were cut exactly the same, startin' from his ears, runnin' across his cheeks an' lips, an' then curvin' down to the crook of his jaw, close cropped an' bristly.

Horace an' Promotheus. .h.i.t the ground as soon as the stage stopped, an'

me an' the Friar dropped back out o' sight inside the hotel. Horace gave orders about his two boxes an' started into the hotel. Just as he came through the door, I stepped out an' gave him a shove. ”You can't come in here,” I growled.

He stepped back as fierce as a rattler. ”I can't, huh?” he piped.

”Well, we'll see if I can't.”

Then he recognized me, an' we began to pump hands. He said 'at he and Promotheus had only reached home three weeks before; but they couldn't stand it, an' so had made a streak for the West. He said they had been in Africa an' India, until they had become plumb disgusted with tropical heat, an' so had come out the northern route, expectin' to outfit at Bosco an' ride down to the Diamond Dot.

We suppered with 'em an' next day they bought a string o' hosses, packed their stuff on 'em, an' said they were ready for some amus.e.m.e.nt. Horace had got a little snappier in his talk an' his movements; but that was about the only change. As soon as we told 'em about Ty Jones havin' a woman, that settled it. Horace insisted upon seein' the woman, an' Promotheus echoed anything 'at Horace said, though his face clouded a bit at the idee of foolin' around the Cross brand ranch. The Friar didn't feel any call to go along with us; but it was more to my mind just then 'n his line was, so I jumped at the chance.

Horace was also mighty glad to add me to his outfit. He had been used to havin' a lot o' Zulus an' Hindus waitin' on him, and hadn't adjusted himself to a small outfit yet. He said he had sent a lot o'

hides an' heads an' horns and other plunder from London, England, to the Diamond Dot; but had been too busy to write durin' the past few years. He and the Friar had quite a talk together before we left; but I could tell from their faces 'at Horace didn't have any news for him.

We had high jinks when we reached Olaf's; but Horace didn't make any hit with the kid. The kid had a jack-in-the-box toy 'at looked consid'able like Horace, an' the kid couldn't square things in his own mind, to see a big size one, out an' walkin' about like a regular human; but when he also got to studyin' Promotheus, he was all undone.

Olaf tried to have him make up to Horace, but he wouldn't stand for it. He'd sit on Olaf's knee and look first at his jack-in-the-box, then at Horace, and wind up with a long look at Promotheus. Promotheus would try to smile kind an' invitin', and then the kid would twist around and bury his face in Olaf's vest. Horace nor Promotheus didn't mind it any; but as far as that goes, the kid was only actin' honest an' natural, accordin' to his lights, an' the jack-in-the-box had as much of a kick comin' as anybody.

Ty had been down there just the day after we had left, an' had wanted to buy Olaf's place; but only offered half what it was worth. He had done this half a dozen times, an' allus insulted Olaf as much as he could about it. Olaf had wanted to sell out at first; but Kit had been able to see 'at they had a homestead fit for any thing, and she had allus insisted that they get full price or hang on. Now, it was improved way beyond common, an' they were both fond of it; so they had decided to stick it out.

”This is goin' to be a dry summer,” sez I.

Olaf's face clouded up but he only shut his lips tighter. We told 'em we were on our way up to try an' have a look at Ty Jones's woman, and Olaf said he'd go along if he didn't have to trail his cattle up to the Raw Hide, this bein' part o' the deal he had made. He said it would take him about ten days probably, an' wanted us to camp in the Spread, an' keep an eye on his stuff. Olaf clipped the first joint off o' Promotheus's name, an' I was glad of it.

We chucked our stuff into the barn next mornin' an' started to stalk the Cross brand neighborhood. Horace had a small field gla.s.s which was a wonder, and we worked as careful as we could. It was only fifteen miles across from Olaf's; but all we were able to do the first day was to find a little sheltered spot up back o' the ranch buildin's where we could get a good view of 'em through the field gla.s.s.

Next day Olaf an' Oscar started with the bunch o' cattle, an' we rode along part way with 'em to give 'em a good start; but Olaf had handled his stuff so gentle that it was no trouble, an' we turned back an'

took up our watch again. We watched for a week without seein' a thing, ridin' in each night to sleep back of Olaf's shack. Me an' Theus-I had seen Olaf's ante an' had raised him one-were gettin' purty weary o' this sort o' work; but Horace was as patient as a spider. Finally though, we got a little more risky, and leavin' our hosses up in our sheltered spot, we follered down a ravine to get nearer to the new cabin.

We had caught several glimpses of a woman to prove to us 'at the' was one there; but that was about all, an' so we went down this ravine, tryin' to figure out what excuse we'd give if we came across any of Ty Jones's men. Neither me nor The-Promotheus had said 'at we couldn't be no politer 'n he could, so he had lopped off the last joint, and now had as neat a workin' name as any one, although Horace still insisted on usin' the whole outfit when he had occasion to address him. Well, neither me nor The felt just easy in our minds at snoopin'

about Ty's when we hadn't any business to, especially The; but Horace was as selfcomposed as though he was herdin' lions out o' tall gra.s.s, which it seems had been his favorite pastime durin' the last few years.

The knew the ravine well; he said it ran full o' water in the spring, but after that was dry all the year. We got about half-way down it, an' then we came to a path 'at was plain enough to see. The stopped an' wagged his head. ”No one ever used to use this,” sez he.

”Well, some one uses it purty constant, now,” sez I.

”The woman is the one who uses it,” sez Horace. ”She's lonely, that's plain enough. The path climbs the opposite bank-let's cross an' go up.”

Me an' The bucked at this for some time; but Horace hung out; so we went along with him. We finally came to a little glen with a spring in it, an' gra.s.s, and in a little clump o' small trees, we came across a book lyin' face down on a Navajo blanket.

”That's gettin' close,” sez Horace.

”Yes!” sez we, in low tones.

We scouted all around; but no one was there, an' then we took a line on the hill back of us, picked out a likely spot, and returned the way we had come, this bein' the only direct way. We didn't meet a soul-at least none wearin' bodies, though from the creepy feelin' I had part of the time, I won't ever be certain we didn't meet any souls.

<script>