Part 28 (1/2)
”Well, he's got a ranch, and horses and cattle on it, like the rest of 'em. But ranchin'--” Ike's silence was more than sufficient.
”Well,” said Shock, with admiring emphasis, ”he seems to be able to ride, anyway.”
”Ride! I should surmise! Ride! That kid could ride anythin' from a he-goat to a rampagin', highpottopotamus. Why, look here!” Ike waged enthusiastic. ”He's been two years in this country, and he's got us all licked good and quiet. Why, he could give points to any cattle-man in Alberta.”
”Well, what's the matter with him?”
”Money!” said Ike wrathfully. ”Some blamed fool uncle at home--he's got no parents, I understand--keeps a-sendin' him money. Consequently, every remittance he cuts things loose, with everyone in sight a-helpin'
him.”
”What a shame!” cried Shock. ”He has a nice face. I just like to look at him.”
”That's right!” answered Ike, with no waning of his enthusiasm. ”He's white--but he's soft. Makes me so blank mad! He don't know they're playin' him, and makin' him pay for the game. The only question is, will he hold out longer'n his money.”
”Why! hasn't he any friends here who would remonstrate with him?”
”Remonstrate! Remonstrate!” Ike rolled the word under his tongue as if it felt good. ”You try to remonstrate, and see him look at you, and then smile, till you feel like a cluckin' hen that has lost her nest.
Not any for me, thank you. But it's a blank pity! He's a white kiddie, he is.”
”And that friend of his who was riding with him--who is he?”
”Harricomb--Captain Hal Harricomb, they call him. Good sort of fellow, too, but lazy--and considerable money. Goin' at a pretty good lick.
Wife pulls him up, I guess. Good thing for him, too. Lives up by the General's--old gent, you know, sat by when you set me down out yonder.
Mighty slick, too. Wasn't on to you, though.”
”No,” Shock hastened to say, ”it was a fluke of course. General Brady, you mean. Yes, he was very kind, indeed.”
”Oh, the General's a gentleman, you bet! Horse ranch. Not very big, but makes it go.”
”Could not a man like the General, now, help that young fellow--what is his name?”
”His name? Well, he goes by 'The Kid.' His name's Stanton, I think.
Yes, Stanton--Vic Stanton. Though he never gets it.”
”Well, could not the General help him?” repeated Shock.
”Help The Kid? Not he, nor anyone else. When a horse with blood in him gets a-goin', why, he's got to go till his wind gives out, unless you throw him right down, and that's resky. You've got to wait his time.
Then's your chance. And that reminds me,” said Ike, rising and knocking the lashes out of his pipe, ”that I've got a job on hand. There'll be doin's to-night there after the happy time is over.”
Shock looked mystified.
”They'll get the ladies off, you know, and then the fun'll begin.”
”Fun?”
Ike winked a long, significant wink. ”Yes. Lit'rary Society, you know.