The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jack the Young Cowboy, by George Bird Grinnell This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Jack the Young Cowboy An Eastern Boy's Experiance on a Western Round-up Author: George Bird Grinnell Release Date: November 19, 2014 [EBook #47399] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK THE YOUNG COWBOY *** Produced by David Edwards, Haragos Pál and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced with scans from the Spectator Project, Rutgers University.) JACK THE YOUNG COWBOY By the same Author Jack the Young Cowboy Jack the Young Trapper Jack the Young Canoeman Jack the Young Explorer Jack in the Rockies Jack Among the Indians Jack the Young Ranchman Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk Tales Blackfoot Lodge Tales The Story of the Indian The Indians of To-day The Punishment of the Stingy American Duck Shooting American Game Bird Shooting Trails of the Pathfinders COWBOY STARTING FOR THE ROUND-UP CAMP. Photo by the Morris Art Studio, Chinook, Mont. JACK THE YOUNG COWBOY An Eastern Boy's Experience on a Western Round-up BY GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1913, by Frederick A. Stokes Company All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian Ninth Printing, August 12, 1935 Printed in the United States of America INTRODUCTION Jack's cowboy life began just as a great change was sweeping over the cattle range. Cattle had first been brought into the country only a few years before—old-fashioned long-horns driven up over the trail from Texas. In those days the people in the West were not many. Towns were small, farms almost unknown, wagon roads few. Except about the pastures of the larger ranches, there were no fences. Over most of the land the cowboy roamed alone. His seemed a life of romance. Free as the birds, he wandered over the wide range, going when and where he pleased. But this romance was only apparent. No man worked harder than he, or for less reward. His toilful days and short broken nights; his small pay and his poor food were recorded in the songs that he sang as he rode about the cattle. This was in the early days of the cattle industry. A little later, on the plains came a change from pioneer conditions to those approaching luxury. The earlier cattlemen in the North—those who ranged their stock on the Platte and the various forks of the Loup River —made great profits. Yet as time went on they saw competition constantly growing sharper and ranges being overstocked. As the news of their profits drifted eastward many young men, allured by the romance of the cowboy's life, and ignorant of its actual conditions, came into the cattle country. These believed that success with cattle was to be attained by riding about and watching the cattle increase and grow, and shipping them to market when they had grown. They were glad to be interested in a business at once so agreeable and so profitable; and many a one exchanged his money for a herd, a brand and some log buildings, and rode over the range awaiting the advent of his riches. Many of the early cattlemen sold their herds to the newcomers, who, somewhat later, discovered that with the cattle they had bought also much experience. These changes were in operation when Jack entered on his cowboy life. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I The Tragedy at Powell's 1 II A Robber Turned Loose 13 III To the Round-up Camp 24 IV Old Friends 34 V Cutting and Branding 42 VI Riding Circle 55 VII A Bull Fight 66 VIII A Buffalo Story 78 IX Vicente, Cowhand 88 X The Fenceless Land 98 XI Tanning a Buckskin 110 XII Indian Stories 120 XIII Big Wolves 133 XIV A Bad Man 144 XV An Englishman in Camp 155 XVI A Lesson in Roping 165 XVII Drifting 176 XVIII A Stampede 187 XIX Cow Horses and Their Work 200 XX Roping a Bear 211 XXI A California Bear Hunt 221 XXII Hunting with a Six-Shooter 230 XXIII A Load of Meat 240 XXIV Flagging an Antelope 252 XXV The Dance at the Schoolhouse 266 ILLUSTRATIONS Cowboy starting for the round-up camp Frontispiece FACING PAGE "The cow started straight off over the prairie" 48 Branding in the corral 170 Gentling a wild one 250 JACK, THE YOUNG COWBOY CHAPTER I THE TRAGEDY AT POWELL'S "Well, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, "I do not know where you'll find them, but possibly somewhere over on the Little Medicine. If I were you, I'd ride over to Powell's. They are sure to know where the outfit is, and if you can't reach camp to-night, you can stop at Powell's." [Pg 1] "All right, Uncle Will; I'll go over there and probably get to camp to-night." Jack shook hands with his uncle, and stepping back to his horse threw the reins over Pawnee's head, and swung into the saddle. With a final wave of his hand, he trotted off toward where his string of horses were feeding on the meadow before the house, and riding to and fro behind the scattered bunch, gathered them together and started on down the road. Mr. Sturgis stood in front of the corral filling his pipe, and watching his nephew grow smaller and smaller, as he moved along down the road close to the pasture fence. It seemed to him a long time since he had first brought Jack out from far New York to the Swift Water Ranch, a little slip of a lad, thin and pale. He remembered their first drive from the railroad: how he had killed a bear crossing the road, and how Jack had seen what he supposed to be an Indian dog, which, of course, was a coyote. "My!" said Mr. Sturgis to himself, "certainly the years slip by! Then I could have lifted that little fellow and held him out with one hand; and now he is big enough to lift me!" Jack had risen that morning soon after daylight, and had gone out to get his horses together. The night before, Joe had brought in and put in the small pasture the few saddle horses left at the ranch. That morning they had been driven into the corral, and Jack, aided by Joe's knowledge of the animals, had selected six for his string to ride on the round-up, taking along his old favorite Pawnee for a regular riding horse, but not for a cow horse. Good saddle animal as Pawnee was, Jack thought too much of him to be willing to use him in the long rough work of riding circle or branding calves, or throwing big cows, if any old mavericks should be found. For the most part Pawnee should travel in the cávaya,[A] though sometimes he might be used on night herd. Jack made up his mind that hard work Pawnee should not do. "Give him just enough exercise to make him enjoy his victuals," Joe had said that morning when they were talking the string over. The horses had been brought into the corral, and one after another of those chosen had been cut out and sent out through the big gate, all except the one that was to carry Jack's bed. That one had been roped and taken out and tied up to the fence. Then Jack had gone up to the house and brought down his blankets and a few extra clothes, and having wrapped them up in his "tarp," the bundle had been put on the horse with the regular cowboy hitch, and the animal had been set free to feed with its fellows. Then had come breakfast, and he was ready. It was nearly a year since Jack had crossed a horse, and it seemed very pleasant to be trotting along over the prairie, the bunch going nicely ahead of him. They were fat and frisky and every now and then one of them would lay back his ears and nip at his neighbor, and perhaps the sudden motion would start the little bunch into a gallop, from which they would almost at once come down again to the steady trot. There had been rain enough—so they said at the ranch—during April, May and the first few days of June, but now the prairie was dry and a little cloud of dust rose from under the horses' hoofs. The bottoms and the high hills were brightly green. Moreover, they were dotted with many beautiful flowers—which of course Jack could not see, because he was moving along swiftly—and down on one of the wet meadows the purple iris, already in bloom, had colored the ground blue in spots. It was a couple of years now since Jack had been to the ranch, and a good many things had happened; for when a boy is from seventeen to nineteen years of age, things are likely to happen to him pretty fast. He receives many new impressions, has new experiences, and certainly picks up knowledge of one sort or another at a rapid rate. Since Jack had last seen these prairies and mountains he had passed his examinations, entered college, and spent nearly two years there. He had certainly had a good time while he was in New Haven. The toughness and endurance that he had picked up during his summers on the plains and in the mountains had stood him in good stead in athletics and he had won a place on one of the football teams. During a part of his sophomore year, he had had the bad fortune to have a long and tiresome illness from which he was only now convalescing, and since he had lost much time, it had been thought best for him to go out to his uncle's ranch before the end of the college year and to spend the vacation there in getting well. When he reached the Swift Water Ranch two days before, the round-up had already started and now was in full swing; and Mr. Sturgis, after satisfying himself that Jack was strong enough to do the work, had told him that the best thing for him would be to go out and find the round-up, and work with it. Nothing could have suited Jack better. Hugh was along as a sort of camp-keeper. Mr. Powell and Charley Powell were sure to be there, and so were half a dozen other men whom Jack knew very well, and with whom he would be glad to work. He felt that he was going to have a good time. In fact, he was having a good time now. The air was fresh and cool, the sun bright; far off on the green hills he could see here and there a little white speck which he knew was an antelope; from the fence posts along which he passed sounded the clear whistle of the western meadow lark; and everywhere the air was full of sweet songs of birds, though of them all the meadow lark's was the loudest and clearest. Jack's outfit was that commonly used by the cow puncher. He wore a flannel shirt and woolen trousers, gloves, and shaps—heavy leather trousers without any seat, to protect the legs when riding through underbrush or thorns. About his waist was his pistol-belt filled with cartridges, while the six-shooter hung well down on his right hip. It must not be supposed that Jack carried a gun with any purpose of using it against his fellow men, but in those old days of wild prairie and wild cattle a pistol was almost a necessity. While sometimes it was used to kill game, or perhaps against dangerous animals, it often came in play to frighten an angry cow, or to turn a bunch of stampeding cattle. [Pg 2] [Pg 3] [Pg 4] [Pg 5] Before long Jack had left behind him the pasture fence, and when he looked back could no longer see the ranch buildings which, low themselves, and placed in a sheltered hollow, were now cut off by the points of the rounded hills. His course lay southeast across the basin. Now and then the horses, uncertain as to the direction they should take, veered to one side or the other, so that the driver had to ride out on the side toward which they turned and shout at them to head them back. The miles passed quickly. Occasionally, on some nearby hill Jack saw a little bunch of antelopes—old males with long black horns, and yearlings, both males and females. They looked at him as he drew near, and if he approached too close, ran up to the top of some rise and watched him long after he had passed. It was after he had crossed the valley, and was riding up through the low foothills that stretched out from the bluffs on the other side, that an old doe antelope burst suddenly from a little coulée close to the bunch of horses, and passing in front of them galloped up the hill on the other side. Almost immediately behind her was a coyote running hard. When it saw the horses it checked itself, and an instant later as it saw the rider, turned and ran. The old doe had done her best, but except for the incident of the horses' being there, she would soon have been pulled down. Her black tongue hung far out of her mouth, and she staggered as she ran. Jack understood very well what was happening. Evidently two or more coyotes had started this doe, and were taking turns chasing her, one relieving the other which, by cutting off the corners, could save itself, and after it had regained its wind, take up the chase again. So the race might have kept up for an hour or more, until finally, the old doe would have been overtaken, pulled down, and devoured. To Jack all this was a matter of common knowledge, for more than once he had seen almost that very thing happen. It took him only a moment, therefore, to whirl his horse. Giving him a jab with the spurs, he was close upon the coyote almost before it had started to run. He had jerked out his six-shooter, and as two or three balls knocked up puffs of dust about the coyote, the beast put on a tremendous spurt of speed. It was impossible to take aim from the back of the galloping horse, but one ball passing over the coyote's head caused it to whirl and run broadside for a jump or two, and as it did this, it came in collision with another ball, which quickly ended its career. "Good enough!" said Jack to himself. "That is better luck than I deserved. I didn't hope to do more than scare the beast, and now I have got it." He rode over and sat on his horse looking down at the coyote, from whose hide great patches of fur had been lost, for the animals were now just shedding their winter coats. Evidently the hide was not worth taking off, and so Jack dismounted and cut off the coyote's head, for in those days there was a bounty on these beasts, and the bounty was worth having. He tied the head to the saddle, remounted, and started down toward his horses. They had stopped and were now feeding, but before long he had them moving again. Riding steadily and fast across the plateau, he saw to his left something moving, and watching it for a few moments saw that it was a badger digging its hole. Every now and then the badger would sit up and look about him, and then again would put its forefeet on the ground and begin to dig. When he had got as close to the badger as the trail would bring him, Jack suddenly turned Pawnee and galloped toward the creature at a good rate. The badger at once noticed the change of direction, and set to work digging harder. By the time Jack had reached the hole, the animal was already twelve or fifteen inches under ground, and was quite covered by the loosened earth of the hole. For a moment Jack was going to shoot down through the earth, which was heaving and moving from the struggles of the beast below, but then it occurred to him that there was no especial reason for doing this, since the badger could not be used in any way. Its hide would be useless, and there was no reason for killing it. Moreover, badgers kill a good many prairie dogs which eat grass, and gophers which destroy gardens, and every badger killed means an increase in the dog and gopher population. There came to him, too, the memory of what Hugh more than once had said to him—that there was no sense in killing things unless you could make some use of them. He watched the moving earth for two or three minutes. If he had had a stick he would have poked it down in the hole, to feel the badger, but he had seen too many badgers to be willing to put his hand down in this hole, even though the hand were protected by a stout glove. Presently he was on his horse again, and the bunch was once more started on the road toward Powell's ranch. The horses, which had been going all day, were now very willing to stop, and were eager at any moment to get a bite of grass. Jack kept them to their work, however, and a little later, when he came to the edge of the plateau, he was glad to see the valley below him and Powell's ranch buildings in the distance. He rode down toward the houses, following the little sag; but as he went down the hill the Powell buildings were no longer in sight, for they were hidden by the ridges on either side the road. At the Powell ranch it was long after noon; dinner was over; the dishes had been put away and Mrs. Powell and Bess were sewing in the living-room. All the men had gone off on the round-up, and these two were left here alone, as so often they had been left alone before. Presently Bess glanced through one of the windows which looked over the road leading from the valley. "Here come some people—a couple of men and a pack horse," she said to her mother. A little later the riders drew up in front of the house, and one of them dismounting came to the kitchen door and knocked. Bess went to the door and saw there a tall, spare, middle-aged man. There was nothing especially noticeable about him except that he had rather keen, fierce eyes, a hooked nose, and a black, drooping mustache. As she opened [Pg 6] [Pg 7] [Pg 8] [Pg 9] the door he nodded and said to her: "How do you do, ma'am? We men are traveling south to go to the railroad. We've got to get to Cheyenne. We've come quite a way from the north, and we've run plumb out of grub. We haven't any money, more'n just enough for our tickets, and I was wondering if you would give us a meal. If we can get something to eat, we can go in comfortably to town and catch the east-bound passenger to-night." "Why, certainly!" said Bess. "We'll be glad to give you something to eat. Tie up your horses and come in and sit down. It won't take long to get you some dinner." Leaving the door open, she went back to her mother and told her what the riders wanted, and the two women went into the kitchen and began to start the fire and to prepare a meal. Meantime the men tied up their horses and seated themselves just outside the kitchen door. Mrs. Powell asked once if they would not come in, and sit in the living-room, but they said no, they were comfortable there. Presently dinner was ready and the men, called in, ate hungrily of bacon, potatoes and bread and butter, and seemed especially to enjoy the coffee. The young man had nothing to say; but the older one, after he had satisfied his hunger, talked a little about matters up north, told of things that were happening at Buffalo, and spoke of having passed a round-up camp early that morning. "That's where our men folks are," said Mrs. Powell. "They're all off riding the country, and won't be back until the round-up is over." When the men had finished their meal, the older one thanked Mrs. Powell; and going outside, the two sat down by the door and lighting their pipes talked in low tones. Mrs. Powell and Bess cleared off the table, washed and put away the dishes, and returned to the living-room. Presently the older of the two men rose to his feet and said to the younger: "Come on, now! We may as well try it! It'll be a big help to us if we can get a little money; and we can get on the train, and be well out of the country before anybody knows anything about it." "Aw, Bill, don't do it," said the younger man; "these people have been good to us. It'll be mighty mean to frighten 'em, or take anything from 'em." "Hold your yawp!" growled the man called Bill. "If they've got anything, I'm going to have it; and you've got to back me up and stand half the blame!" He rested his hands on his hips, and looked fiercely at his companion, who dolefully got up on his feet and followed Bill into the house. At the door of the living-room Bill stopped. "I told you, ma'am," he said, "that we're going to the railroad, and that we're going to Cheyenne, but we ain't got any money to pay the railroad fares, and I thought I'd ask you if you wouldn't give us what we need?" "Is the man crazy!" cried Mrs. Powell, angrily. "I'm not a bank; and if you've been any time in this country you must know that people on ranches don't keep money. What would we spend money for here?" "I reckon that's so, ma'am," said Bill; "but I reckon too that your man didn't go away and leave you without a cent, and whatever you've got, I'll take, and take it quick!" He stepped into the room toward Mrs. Powell, and she saw at once that the man meant what he said and that asking for money was no longer a request but a demand. "Honestly," she protested, "I have no money. When Mr. Powell went away he didn't expect us to leave the ranch, and he knew we didn't need any money here. You'll have to try to borrow some in town when you get to the railroad." "Well," said the man, "if you haven't any money you've got a watch there, and I'll take that, and maybe when I get to town I can borrow two or three dollars on it." He stepped forward and reached out to take from her belt a little watch whose ring he could see above her apron strings; but Mrs. Powell drew back. "You shan't have that watch!" she cried. "I've had that ever since I was married, and I won't give it to you!" The man caught her arm with his left hand and reached for the watch with his right hand; and Mrs. Powell screamed. "Hold on!" said Bessie. "Let go my mother! I've got some money, and I'll give it to you." "You've got some money, have you?" said Bill, releasing Mrs. Powell's arm. "Yes; I have twenty-two dollars I was saving up to buy a saddle, and if you will clear out right off, I'll give it to you." "All right," agreed Bill. "We'll go. Let's have it. But don't try to play any tricks, young woman." "I'll get it for you right away," Bessie said; "it's here in my bedroom." "All right," repeated Bill. "Be quick about it!" Bessie ran into the bedroom and was heard to pull open a drawer, and a few seconds later a shot sounded. Bill staggered a little, felt for his pistol, and then turned around and fell to the floor; while the young man who had stood in the door ran out through the kitchen, jumped on his horse, and galloped off. Cávaya from the Spanish word caballada, the horse herd. [Pg 10] [Pg 11] [Pg 12] [A] CHAPTER II A ROBBER TURNED LOOSE As Jack rounded a low point of hill only half a mile from the house, he saw the buildings again. The sun was getting low, and he decided that he would put the animals in Powell's pasture and ask Mrs. Powell to keep him over night at the house. He wondered if she would know him, for since she had last seen him he had grown, as it seemed to him, a foot or two. As he came in sight of the house he noticed, hitched to the fence near the door, two riding horses and a loaded pack horse. Evidently there were visitors at the house. They were travelers, not cow punchers, for the pack animal carried a sawbuck pack-saddle and a very small pack. These thoughts had just passed through Jack's head, when to his amazement he heard a shot which seemed to come from the house, and an instant later the door flew open and a man burst out, rushed to the horses, jumped on one of them and galloped fast down the road toward him. Jack could not conceive what this meant—shooting in Powell's house. He did not know the man who was approaching. He was young, fair-haired, rode like one accustomed to the saddle, and had a good horse, though it looked as though it had gone a long way. The rider was coming directly toward him, and, as he rode, he looked back at the house two or three times, as though fearing pursuit. Jack did not know what all this meant, and yet one thing seemed certain—he must stop this man and find out what he had been doing. Yet to stop a man on the road he knew was pretty serious business, and might very likely lead to shooting. He had traveled enough on the prairie and had associated enough with older men to be cautious about getting into trouble; but here was a case where trouble seemed to be coming toward him so straight that he could not avoid it. For the first two or three moments the rider seemed not to notice Jack, but when he did so, he checked the speed of his horse, and looked uncertainly to right and left, as though seeking some way of escape. By this time Jack had stuck his spurs into Pawnee, and was riding fast toward the approaching man. He had his hand on his six-shooter, ready to draw it at the least sign of trouble. As they drew near to each other the young man made a motion as if to put his hand on his pistol butt, but Jack called to him sharply, "Hands up!" and drew his pistol. The young fellow's hands flew up in the air, while he stopped his horse. Jack rode around and coming up behind him on the right side, still holding his pistol ready, reached over and took the young man's gun out of his holster, and then ordered him sharply to turn around and ride in front of him toward the house. He watched him closely, for it was possible that somewhere about his person the man might have another pistol, but the young fellow seemed to have no desire to do anything save what he was told. His nerve had wholly left him. They trotted up to the door of the ranch, and Jack called out for Mr. Powell, Charley and Mrs. Powell, and a moment later a tall, handsome, brown-haired girl appeared at the door, holding a six-shooter in her hand. Jack instantly recognized her as his old friend Bessie, but Bessie grown out of all likeness to the slim-legged little girl that he had known half a dozen years before. "Hello, Bessie!" called Jack. "You don't know me, I guess, but I am Jack Danvers, just over from Mr. Sturgis' ranch. I heard a shot and saw this man running away from the house, and stopped him. What has happened? Do you want him, or shall I let him go?" "I don't know, Jack," Bessie answered; "we'll have to think about that. He ought to be tied up for a while anyhow, until we can tell you what has happened, and can decide what to do." "Well," said Jack, "the first thing is to take his weapons if he has any. Here is the six-shooter he had when I stopped him. Will you hold it, and keep an eye on him while I search him? You used to be able to shoot when you were a little girl." "I guess you will think I can yet, Jack," said Bessie. Jack now noticed that she looked very white. "That man's partner is in here, and we will have to do something with him." Jack said nothing, but dismounted, went to the young rider, unbuckled and took off his belt and felt him all over to see whether he had another pistol. Nothing was found on him more dangerous than a pocket-knife, which Jack took. He had the young man dismount and sit down on the ground, and asked Bessie to stand guard over him. Then with a rope taken off one of the horses he tied the man's hands and feet securely, and passing the rope from his wrists, which were tied behind his back, over a bar of the fence four feet from the ground, drew up the hands so as to keep the man's body bent forward, and to give him very little freedom of motion. Then he tied the horses to the fence and went to the door where Bessie stood. "Tell me all about it now, Bessie," he said. "No, Jack, I can't talk now," she replied. "Go in and speak to mother, and talk it over with her." He passed through the kitchen and into the living-room, and the first thing that caught his eye there was a man lying on the floor, on his back, with one arm stretched out. Stepping up to him, Jack saw that he was dead, and apparently he had been moved a little, for on the boards was a smear of blood, leading to the man's body, which seemed to show that an effort had been made to drag him toward the door. Mrs. Powell was not there, but when Jack called her by name she opened a bedroom door and came out. Jack began to tell her who he was, but she knew him at once, and grasping [Pg 13] [Pg 14] [Pg 15] [Pg 16] both his hands began to cry and to tell him how glad she was to see him. "Don't cry, Mrs. Powell," said Jack. "Tell me what all this is about, for of course I don't understand it at all. I heard a shot, and met a man riding hard away from the house. I stopped him and brought him back and now he is outside tied up, with Bessie watching him." "Oh, Jack!" moaned Mrs. Powell, "to think that anything like this could happen in this country! We have plenty of bad men here, but I never thought that any of them would be bad enough to attack a woman; and I never supposed that Bessie would have to kill one." The poor woman had great difficulty in speaking, and it was hard for Jack to understand what she was talking about; but some ideas he got. He patted her shoulder and told her that the trouble was all over now, and she need not worry about it, and that he would look after everything, if she would only tell him the whole story so that he could understand it. Then Mrs. Powell told him what had happened. "Well, well," declared Jack, "this is certainly bad business—that anybody in this country should start in and rob women and children. However, it is mighty lucky that Bessie is so quick with her wits, and so quick with her gun. Now what shall we do with this man's partner?" Mrs. Powell began to cry again. "Dear me! dear me! I don't know what to say to you, Jack. If our men come back and find him here, he surely will never get off the place; they'll hang him on the gate-post; and I don't want that to happen. We've had trouble enough with this dead man here, and I don't want Charley or his father to get mixed up in any lynching." "Well, Mrs. Powell," Jack replied, "this young fellow ought to be killed and killed quick. He surely has no business in this country. But I can understand how you feel. It wouldn't be very pleasant for you to have him hung right in your dooryard, as you might say. Let me go out and talk to Bessie, and see what she thinks. I have an idea from the way she looks and from what you tell me that she has pretty good sense; but first, it seems to me, we ought to get rid of this carcass here. I'll open the front door and drag him out." Jack opened the door, and then going back to where the man lay, and moving the furniture out of the way, took him by the two wrists and dragged him out of the door and left the body lying on the ground. Going back to the kitchen door, he saw Bessie leaning against the fence watching the young man who was seated on the ground, and who apparently had not changed his position since he was tied up. "Come over here, Bessie," Jack requested, and she walked with him to a place fifteen or twenty yards from the young man, and there in a low voice they talked over the situation. Jack told her that her mother had explained what had happened, and of Mrs. Powell's fear lest some of the people now off on the round-up should come back and find the prisoner at the house, and should hang him without ceremony. "That is what I am afraid of, Jack. I want to have this thing ended now, as quickly as possible. It seems terrible that I should have had to kill that man; but I didn't know what else I could do to protect mother, and nobody knows where he would have stopped if something had not been done." "Well," suggested Jack, "what's the matter with giving this young man his horse, or horses, and turning him loose now without any weapons?" "I wish with all my heart you would do that. It seems to me that is the easiest way, and the best way, and it will certainly keep out of trouble any of the boys that may turn up here in the next few days." "All right," said Jack, "we'll do that. But first I've got to use him for a little while, and you must come along too, I am afraid, to stand guard over him." "I'll do anything I can that you say is right," agreed Bessie. Jack went over to the prisoner, and untying the ropes turned him loose. "Now, young fellow," Jack said, "rub your arms and wrists and get the stiffness out of them, and then come down to the barn and help me hitch up a wagon." They went to the barn and found there a couple of work horses, and harnessing them, hitched them to the wagon, into which they threw a pick and a couple of shovels. Driving up to the house, they stopped by the body of the man who had been shot, and lifted it into the wagon, covering it with a piece of an old tent. They then drove off up a ravine a mile or more from the house, where they stopped the wagon; and here in the side of a bank the two men dug a hole, and buried the would-be robber. Jack searched his pockets for some means of identification, but found in them nothing except a pipe, some tobacco, matches and a pocket-knife. His belt and cartridges were taken off to be carried back to the house. The sun was close to the western horizon when they reached the house again. Jack left the young man unhitching the horses, and Bess watching him, while he returned to the house to tell Mrs. Powell what they had decided to do, and to ask her approval. "That is the very best thing that can be done," she said. "Start him off for the railroad, and try to see that he gets there." "I mean to ride with him for a mile or two," said Jack; "and I shall say to him that to-morrow morning I am going over to the round-up camp to tell them there what has happened, and that there is likely to be a hunt for him, and he had better quit the country as fast as he knows how." [Pg 17] [Pg 18] [Pg 19] [Pg 20] "Good!" approved Mrs. Powell. "Ride with him over to the big hill, and from there watch him as far as you can, and then come back. We'll have supper ready by dark and we'll look for you then." "All right," replied Jack. "Before I go, though, I'll turn my horses into the pasture, if you will let me, and take my bed off the pack horse." It took scarcely five minutes to do this, for the hungry horses were still feeding close to the house. Then Jack went to the young man, who had returned to the place where he had been tied, and had seated himself on the ground there. "You've got yourself into a place that will mean hanging for you, if you don't get out of the country quick," said Jack. "I am going to give you a chance for your life, and let you get to the railroad, where maybe you can strike a freight, or a passenger-train, that will take you away. If any of the people that belong in this part of the country come back and hear what you and your partner have done, they will start out and hunt you as long as they can find your tracks, and if they get hold of you, you'll swing. Who was this man that you came down here with, and where did you come from?" "I don't know what his name was," answered the young man, "but up there we called him Bill Davis. We came down from just south of Buffalo. Davis had a little place up there with a few head of cattle and horses on it, but the stockmen thought he was branding too many calves, and they told him that he would have to get out of the country. When he saw they meant it, he came to me, for I had been living on a little place I had taken up not far from him, and said that he had to get out, and proposed to me to go somewhere and make a stake, and come back with something to put on our places. He persuaded me, and I went with him. I never knew he was going to try to rob these people here; they treated us awful white; but he said to me that if I didn't come with him to speak to the women, he and I would quarrel. I wish I had never seen him! I never got into trouble like this before. You can see for yourself that I ain't bad. Didn't I give up just as soon as you told me to?" The young man whimpered and looked as if he were going to cry. "Well," admitted Jack, "you don't look to me like a fellow who would willingly be mixed up in robbing women and children, and I am going to let you go; but if I do, you've got to get out of the country quick, for if the men around here find you, they won't stop to talk to you, the way I have. The best thing for you to do is to ride into the railroad and get on a train and get out of reach as quickly as you can. Have you any money?" "Yes, I have a five-dollar bill and some nickels." "What about these horses? Who owns them?" asked Jack. "One saddle horse and the pack horse belonged to Bill; and the horse I ride is mine, and so is the saddle." "Well," said Jack, "you'd better get on your horse now and pull your freight for the railroad as quick as you can. I expect your horse isn't in very good shape to make the ride, and maybe I'd better lend you one of mine to go in with. Do you know anybody at the railroad that would buy your horse and saddle?" "Nary a person," was the answer. "I have never been down here before. The only thing that I can do is to leave the horse and saddle in town at some livery stable, or else turn him loose on the range." "I will tell you what I'll do," said Jack; "if you want to sell that saddle for twenty dollars, I will buy it from you, and give you five dollars on account. You can leave it with Brown, at Medicine Bow, and if I hear that you have done so, and you will write to me, I will send you the fifteen dollars by mail. I think I'll keep Davis' horses and saddle here until somebody calls for them, and maybe your horse. You can take one of my string to ride into the railroad, and when you get there with it, either leave it at Brown's, or turn it loose on the range. It will come back to our ranch sooner or later. Now go and change your saddle to that gray horse you see feeding out there, just inside the pasture gate. I'll ride with you a little way." The boy went over to his horse and mounted and Jack followed on Pawnee. In a moment a rope was on the gray, the saddles were changed and the two young men rode off in the direction of the railroad. When they reached the top of the hill a couple of miles from the ranch, Jack pointed out to the man the way he should go to strike the main road leading into the town, and told him to go ahead. The young man hesitated for a moment. "I don't rightly know how to thank you for turning me loose in this way," he said. "I swear that I never had any idea of hurting those two women, and I hope some day I'll be able to make you believe that. Will you tell me how I may call you?" "I am Jack Danvers; and you can always reach me by writing to the Swift Water Ranch, near Carbon. If you write me, I'll send you the fifteen dollars. What is your name?" "I'm Sam Williams, I'm from Michigan; and I wish't I was back there now. Have you got a piece of paper? I'd like to have your address written down, so that I'll remember it." Jack tore a scrap from an old envelope in his pocket, and writing the address, handed it over to the young man. "Good-by, and thank you again," the latter said; and turning his horse's head rode to the south. The sun had set, and it would soon be too dark to see far, but Jack drew back from the crest of the hill and, riding around a short distance, dismounted. Walking up, he peered over the ridge and watched the horseman, riding fast, until dusk had fairly settled down over the valley. Then turning, he mounted Pawnee, and in a short time was at the Powell's barn, where he unsaddled and turned his horse into the hay corral. [Pg 21] [Pg 22] [Pg 23] CHAPTER III TO THE ROUND-UP CAMP Supper smelled good to Jack as he entered the house on his return, for he had had nothing to eat since breakfast, and the ride had sharpened his appetite. Mrs. Powell and Bess were putting the food on the table, and Jack was sent to Charley's room to wash his hands. He noticed as he passed through the sitting-room that all was in order, and that here and there the floor was damp, showing that it had been scrubbed after he left. When they sat down to the table, Jack's first words were: "Well, he got off all right, and I watched him for a mile or two. He was going fast toward town, and I reckon we won't see him again in this part of the country. What did you do with the other horses, Bess?" "I took the saddles off, and turned them into the pasture with your string. The two saddle horses are good ones, but I don't know what we ought to do with them." During the evening much of the talk was about the exciting events of the day, though several times the women tried to get away from the subject by asking Jack about his life in the East and his studies, or by discussing the daily happenings of ranch life. It was getting late, and Jack was thinking about excusing himself and going to bed, when he noticed that Bessie was holding her head to one side and apparently listening; and in a few seconds Jack heard the faint tramp of a galloping horse, which presently stopped at the barn. "I'll just go out and see who that is," said Jack. "You needn't bother, Jack; I know that gallop," Bessie replied. "That's old Kate; and probably father riding her." "Good!" exclaimed Jack. "All the same I'll just go out and make sure." He stepped out of the front door and walking around the unlighted side of the house stopped near the kitchen door and looked toward the barn. In a moment he heard footsteps and the clinking of spurs, with the sound of shaps rasping as a man walked, and a moment later recognized Mr. Powell, and stepped forward to speak to him. "I don't suppose you know me, Mr. Powell, but I'm Jack Danvers from over at Mr. Sturgis' place and I want to say a word to you before you go to the house." "Why sure I know you, Jack! That is, I know your voice; but I don't believe I'd know your body. Maybe when I get a chance to see your face, I'll recognize that. Are you out here for the summer?" "Yes, Mr. Powell," was the reply; "but I want to speak to you now before you go in. There has been trouble here at the house; bad business, but no great harm done. It's all over now. Mrs. Powell will tell you the whole story." The two shook hands and went into the house. Powell kissed his wife and hugged his daughter in a way that showed how glad he was to see them again. Then he sat down and looked about, as if expecting something. Mrs. Powell spoke at once. "I don't know if Jack told you about what happened here, Henry; but I was badly scared, and I guess Bess was, too, only she didn't show it." "Well," said Powell, "tell me the story. There's no use in beating about the bush." Mrs. Powell told him what had happened, and as her story went on, Powell's face took on a stern, hard look that promised badly for the criminals, if one of them should fall into his hands. When the narrative was ended, he turned to his daughter. "Well, Bess," he said, "you certainly did the right thing: and I feel proud that you were so ready and so plucky. You did well, too," he said to Jack; "but, as I understand it, the thing was all over when you stopped the man who was running away. What's become of him?" Then Jack took up the story, and told the decision that had been reached and how it had been carried out. "Well," said Powell, "I believe on the whole you did the right thing. I don't quite think it's what I'd have done, if I'd been here; but if I'd been here I should have been mad clear through and would probably have killed the young fellow offhand." "That would have been the natural thing to do," Jack replied; "but of course it wouldn't have been the pleasantest thing for Mrs. Powell and Bessie, and I felt that they had both had a pretty hard time, and that what they said ought to go." "Yes," declared Powell, slowly, as if considering the thing, "you did the right thing. I can see that now, and I'll feel a good deal surer in the morning. I'm glad that neither Charley nor any of those young fellows came on with me from the round-up camp. If they had, I know they would have caught up fresh horses and followed that fellow to the railroad, and very likely caught him before he got on the train. "Well," he went on, "you've all had a pretty exciting day, and I expect you women had better go to bed. I'll sit up here and smoke a pipe or two, and talk with Jack, and then we'll go to bed too. I'm going back to the camp in the morning, [Pg 24] [Pg 25] [Pg 26] [Pg 27] and I expect you'll want to go along too, won't you, Jack? I judge that you're headed for the round-up camp." "That's where I want to go," agreed Jack. "I came here because I had an idea the camp would be somewhere in this neighborhood, and I thought I could get directions to find it." After the two women had gone to bed, Powell filled his pipe and then drawing his chair close to Jack they talked together for a little while in a low tone. Jack told his host all that he had learned about the man who had been killed, and when he mentioned his name, Powell exclaimed: "Why, that might have been the Bill Davis that was mixed up in that train robbing business nearly ten years ago, the one the miners hung Big-Nose George for in Rawlins. If that's the man, he surely was bad, and deserved all he got." "Well," said Jack, "I went through his clothes but couldn't find any papers. The young fellow gave him the name of Davis. He was a man, I should think, between forty and fifty, just beginning to get gray, a hooked-nosed man, with black hair and mustache." "I never saw Davis," said Henry Powell; "only heard of him." "The young fellow," Jack went on, "didn't seem to be bad. He seemed to be worthless, and no account. He had no great amount of sand, and was always looking around to find some way to get out of the difficulty." "I've an idea, then, that he was not mixed up in the thing any farther than being in bad company." "That's just what I thought," said Jack, "and I believe I'm right. Why, when he talked to me when I turned him loose, he came pretty near crying. I don't think he's a fellow of any force at all, and I don't believe that he will ever get back into this part of the country again." "Could he get off on the railroad?" asked Powell. "Did he have any money?" "Yes, he had five dollars of his own, and I gave him five more for his saddle, which he said he would leave at Brown's, and then if he lets me know his address, I will send him fifteen more by mail. Besides that, he left his horse here, and it's a better one than the gray I gave him to ride on. If he gets off on the railroad he's to leave the horse at Brown's, or turn it loose on the range. Of course, ten dollars will carry him some distance, but will leave him afoot wherever he stops. Still, that's a whole lot better than being hanged." "Well," decided Powell, "I guess you did just right; and I'm glad it all happened as it did. It's a mighty lucky thing for the women and me that you rode up here just as you did. I shouldn't have been afraid of anything more happening to them, but it would have been pretty bad for them to have to get rid of that carcass. Well, let's go to bed." He stretched out his hand and gave Jack a grip that made the boy wince, and they went to their rooms. Early the next morning Jack and Powell looked over the horses left there by the strangers the day before. The men had been well mounted, and the saddle and bridle belonging to Davis were new, good and strong. The pack horse was also a good animal, and looked as if it might have speed and endurance. "Nice horses, aren't they, Mr. Powell?" said Jack. "But I don't know who owns them now." "Yes," answered Powell; "they are nice horses. You'll find, if you live long enough in this country—maybe you've found it out already—that these rustlers and bad men always do have good horses. They've always got to be ready to skip off when any one gets after them, and they always try to be fixed so as to ride a little faster and a little farther than the man who is chasing them. So they always have good horses and good saddles. As to who owns these horses now, you and I can't say, but I guess nobody has a better title to them than we two, so we'll just hold them until somebody comes along and claims them and proves property. I don't know the brands of any of them. That one on the brown horse might be old Missouri John's "beer mug," blotted. If it is, he'll be along some day and likely know the horse. Now I've got to get Bessie to write some letters for me this morning, and then I want to get some grub and put it on a horse, and after dinner we can start back to the round-up camp and get there before dark. Will that suit you?" "Yes," replied Jack, "that will suit me to a T; and I am certainly glad to wait for you, to have company on the road over." "Well," said Powell, "that will be good; then we can turn my pack horse loose and drive him with your remuda, and we can get along pretty fast." As he said this, a call from the house told them that breakfast was ready, and they started back. "By the way," asked Powell, as they were approaching the house, "what about those guns that you took away from the men yesterday?" "Why," Jack answered, "you may as well keep them here. I have my own and don't need any more. I think the pair that Davis wore ought to belong to Bess." Powell smiled. "Well, maybe they ought to. I guess we'll keep those here, but the one you took from the young man you might as well keep." "All right," said Jack, "I will; but of course I don't want to pack it around with me now. This one I am carrying came from a horse thief. Do you remember that time four or five years ago when we ran into a bunch of stolen stock on the Sweet Water, and Hugh killed black Bob Dowling? Hugh gave me his pistols, and ever since then I have worn one of [Pg 28] [Pg 29] [Pg 30] them whenever I was in a place where I carried a pistol." The house this morning looked more cheerful than it had the afternoon before. Mrs. Powell and Bess were bright and smiling, and the breakfast was very good. S...