Part 22 (1/2)
”You leave my girl alone, you blankety-blank!” and went muttering on his way.
This roused Bowles from his reverie, and he began to think. If Hardy Atkins had noticed a change, there were others who would do the same.
How Atkins had guessed, or what the clue had been, he could not tell; but, having been carefully brought up, Bowles knew exactly what he ought to do. Before the first rumor had run its course it was his duty as a gentleman to go to Henry Lee and make a report of the facts; then, if any exaggerated statements came to his ears later, Mr. Lee would know that his conduct had been honorable and that green-eyed envy was raising its hateful head. So, without more ado, he rode up to the point of the herd and saluted the austere boss.
”Mr. Lee,” he said, as that gentleman turned upon him sharply, ”I am sorry, but Miss Lee had a very bad fall this morning and she has gone ahead to camp.”
”Yes, I saw her,” returned the boss. ”What about it?”
”Well--I was afraid she might not mention it to you, or might minimize her hurts, but as a matter of fact she fell on a steep hill, and if it hadn't been for a juniper tree she might have been seriously injured. As it is, her knee gave her quite a lot of trouble and I had to help her to mount.”
”Oh!” commented Henry Lee, and glanced at him again. ”Well, what is it?”
he inquired, as Bowles still rode at his side.
”Excuse me,” stammered Bowles, holding resolutely to his task, ”I thought perhaps you might want to ride ahead and help her off her horse.”
For a moment the boss looked him over, then he grunted and bowed quite formally.
”Yes, thank you, Mr. Bowles,” he said. ”Will you call Hardy to take my place?”
He waited until Hardy Atkins had started, and then put spurs to his horse, and when the cowboys reached camp he was busy about the tent. The next day Dixie did not ride out on the round-up, and when they came back she was gone. ”Back to the home ranch,” the cook reported, and he added that she was not very lame; but the cow-punchers glared at Bowles as if he had crippled her for life. And not only that, but as if he had done it on purpose.
”These blankety-blank tenderfeet!” commented Hardy Atkins by the fire.
”They can make an outfit more trouble than a bunch of Apache Indians. I cain't stand 'em--it's onlucky to have 'em around.”
”I'd rather be short-handed, any time,” observed Buck Buchanan sagely.
”Now, there's Dix,” continued Hardy, with a vindictive glance at Bowles; ”worth any two men in the outfit--ride anywhere--goes out with this tenderfoot and comes within an ace of gittin' killed. She raced with me, rode with Jack and Slim, and left the Straw a mile--the Hinglishman comes in behind her, crowds her outer the trail, and if it hadn't been fer that juniper she'd a-landed in them rocks.”
Bowles looked up scornfully from his place and said nothing, but Brigham appeared for the defense.
”Aw, what do _you_ know about it?” he growled. ”You wasn't there. Who told you he crowded her out of the trail?”
”Well, he says so himse'f!” protested Atkins, pointing an accusing finger at Bowles. ”Didn't he come into camp and tell all about it? I believe that he was tryin' to do it so he could git a chance to----”
”Mr. Atkins,” said Bowles, rising to his feet and speaking tremulously, ”I shall have to ask----”
But that was as far as he got. With a tiger-like spring the ex-twister was upon him, and before he could raise his hands he struck him full in the face.
”You will talk about my gal, will ye?” he shouted, as Bowles went down at the blow. ”Stand up hyer, you white-livered Hinglishman; I'll learn you to b.u.t.t in on my game!”
”Here! What're you tryin' to do?” demanded Brigham, leaping up hastily and confronting his old-time enemy. ”You touch that boy again, and I'll slap yore dirty face off!”
”Well, he's been gittin' too important around hyer!” cried Atkins noisily. ”And he's been talkin' about my gal--I won't take that from no man!”
”Huh!” sneered Brigham, drawing closer and clenching his hands. ”You're mighty quick to hit a man when he ain't lookin'--why don't you take a man of yore size now and hit me?”
”I ain't got no quarrel with you!” raved Hardy Atkins. ”That's the feller I'm after--he's been talkin' about my gal!”
”He has not!” replied Brigham deliberately. ”He never talked about no gal, and I'll whip the man that says so--are you bad hurt, pardner?”