Part 5 (1/2)
”That's so, I reckon,” agreed Ike. ”The boys don't see him often.”
”Can't you make the boys just scare him into keeping off the range, instead of doing him real harm? They seemed very angry about the fire.”
”I dunno, Miss. Old Bill's some hot under the collar himself-and he might well be. Last night's circus cost him a pretty penny.”
”Did you ever see this man they say is crazy?” demanded Ruth.
”I told you I did oncet.”
”What sort of a looking man is he?”
”He ain't no more'n a kid, Miss. That's it; he's jest a tenderfoot kid.”
”A boy, you mean?” queried Ruth, anxiously.
”Not much older than that yere whitehead ye brought with yuh,” said Ike, beginning to grin now that he had become a bit more familiar with the Eastern girl, and pointing at Bob Steele. ”And he ain't no bigger than him.”
”You wouldn't let your boys injure a young fellow like that, would you?”
cried Ruth. ”It wouldn't be right.”
”I dunno how I'm goin' to stop 'em from mussin' him up a whole lot if they chances acrost him,” said Ike, slowly. ”He'd ought to be shut up, so he had.”
”Granted. But he ought not to be abused. Another thing, Ike-I'll tell you a secret.”
”Uh-huh?” grunted the surprised foreman.
”I want to see that young man awfully!” said Ruth. ”I want to talk with him--”
”Sufferin' snipes!” gasped Ike, becoming so greatly interested that he forgot it was a girl he was talking with. ”What you wanter see that looney critter for?”
”Because I'm greatly interested in the Tintacker Mine, and they say this young fellow usually sticks to that locality,” replied Ruth, smiling on the big cow puncher. ”Don't you think I can learn to ride well enough to travel that far before we return to the East?”
”To ride to Tintacker, Miss?” he asked.
”Yes.”
”Why, suah, Miss!” cried Ike, cordially. ”I'll pick you-all out a nice pony what's well broke, and I bet you'll ride him lots farther than that. I'll rope him now-I know jest the sort of a hawse you'd oughter ride--”
”No; you go eat your breakfast with the other boys,” laughed Ruth, preparing to go back to the ranch-house. ”Jane Ann says we're all to have ponies to ride and she maybe will be disappointed if I don't let her pick out mine for me,” added Ruth, with her usual regard for the feelings of her mates. ”But I am going to depend on you, Mr. Ike, to teach me to ride.”
”And when you want to ride over to Tintacker tuh interview that yere maverick, yo' let me know, Miss,” said Bashful Ike. ”I'll see that yuh git thar with proper escort, and all that,” and he grinned sheepishly.
Tom and Bob breakfasted with the punchers, but after the regular meal at the ranch-house the two boys hastened to join their girl friends. First they must all go to the corral and pick out their riding ponies. Helen, Madge and The Fox could ride fairly well; but Jane Ann had warned them that Eastern riding would not do on the ranch. Such a thing as a side-saddle was unknown, so the girls had all supplied themselves with divided skirts so that they could ride astride like the Western girl.
Besides, a cow pony would not stand for the long skirt of a riding habit flapping along his flank.
Now, Ruth had ridden a few times on Helen's pony, and away back when she was a little girl she had ridden bareback on an old horse belonging to the blacksmith at Darrowtown. So she was not afraid to try the nervous little flea-bitten gray that Ike Stedman roped and saddled and bridled for her. Jane Ann declared it to be a favorite pony of her own, and although the little fellow did not want to stand while his saddle was being cinched, and stamped his cunning little feet on the ground a good bit, Ike a.s.sured the girl of the Red Mill that ”Freckles,” as they called him, was ”one mighty gentle hawse!”
There was no use in the girls from the East showing fear; Ruth was too plucky to do that, anyway. She was not really afraid of the pony; but when she was in the saddle it did seem as though Freckles danced more than was necessary.
These cow ponies never walk-unless they are dead tired; about Freckles'