Part 7 (2/2)

A few days later saw him on his way westward, his heart bounding with the exhilarating beauty of the scene. Already the life at home seemed cramped; the wideness and freedom of this great new country intoxicated him.

”Do we want a recruit? No, we don't!” said the sergeant at Regina, to whom Jim applied. ”Stay a bit, though; you needn't be in such a hurry.

Just out from the Old Country, I suppose. Do you know anything about horses? Can you ride?”

”Yes,” said Jim humbly.

”Let's try you,” and the sergeant led the way into the riding-school.

”We call this one 'Brown Billy,'” he remarked, indicating a quiet-looking horse. ”Think you can sit on him?”

”I'll try,” said Jim.

Riding Brown Billy seemed ridiculously easy at first. Suddenly, however, without the slightest warning, Jim found himself gripping with his knees the sides of an animal that was dancing wildly on its hind legs.

Jim caught a grin on the faces of the sergeant and some of the other bystanders, and setting his teeth he held on grimly. This was evidently a favourite trick of Brown Billy's, and the sergeant knew it. Well, they should see that British grit was not to be beaten.

Seemingly conquered, Brown Billy dropped again on all-fours. Scarcely had Jim begun to congratulate himself on his victory when Billy's head went down between his forelegs, his hind-quarters rose, and Jim was neatly deposited on hands and knees a few feet ahead.

The grins were noticeably broader as Jim rose, crimson with vexation.

”Thought you could sit him, eh?” laughed the sergeant. ”Well, you kept on longer than some I've seen, and you didn't try to hug him around the neck, either. You're not the first old Billy has played that trick on, by a long way. You'll make a rider yet! Come along and let us see what else you can do.”

[Sidenote: Enrolled]

As a result of the searching examination Jim underwent he found himself enrolled as a recruit. He was glad to find that there were among his new companions others who had fallen victims to Brown Billy's wiles, and who in consequence thought none the worse of him for his adventure.

Into the work that followed Jim threw himself with all his might. Never had instructors a more willing pupil, and it was a proud day for Jim when he was pa.s.sed out of the training-school as a qualified trooper.

Jim found himself one of an exceedingly small party located apparently a hundred miles from anywhere. Their nearest neighbours were a tribe of Indians, whose mixture of childishness and cunning shrewdness made them an interesting study. These gave little trouble; they had more or less accepted the fact that the white man was now in possession of the domains of their forefathers, and that their best course was to behave themselves. When the presence of the police was required, Jim was almost amused at the docility with which his directions were generally obeyed.

He delighted in the life--the long rides, the occasional camping out on the plains far from any dwelling, the knowledge that he must rely upon himself. He felt more of a man; his powers of endurance increased until he took a positive pleasure in exercising them to their fullest possible extent. Meanwhile, nothing more exciting happened than the tracking and capture of an occasional horse-thief.

Winter set in early and hard. Snow fell until it lay feet deep, and still the stormy winds brought more. One day the sergeant came in with a troubled face.

”Wightman's horses have stampeded,” he announced. ”They'll be gone c.o.o.ns if they're not rounded up and brought in.”

”Let me go, sergeant!” said Jim.

The sergeant shook his head. ”It's no work for a young hand. The oldest might lose his bearings in weather like this.”

”Let me go, sergeant!” Jim repeated. ”If those horses are to be brought in I can do it.” There was a world of pleading in his tone, and the sergeant guessed the reason.

”I meant no reflection on you, my lad,” said he. ”It's no weather for anybody to be out in. All the same, if those horses aren't to be a dead loss, somebody's got to round them up.”

Finally Jim got his way. In a temporary lull about midday he set out on his stout horse, well wrapped up in the thick woollen garments provided for such times as these, and determined to bring in those horses, or perish in the attempt.

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