GUARD MAKES A MISTAKE
Mr. Horton was returning to the charge when I eagerly caught at an
opportunity that now presented itself, of speeding his departure. He
was standing with his back to the open door, and had not observed,
as we did, that his horse--contrary to the usual habit of mountain
ponies--was not standing patiently where his master had left him.
Weary of waiting, he was walking away along the homeward road as
rapidly as the dangling bridle reins would allow.
"Mr. Horton," I said, "your horse is leaving." A wicked impulse forced
me to add: "I am sure you would hate to lose your horse here--as you
did a coat button, one night not so long ago."
It was a reckless speech to make, as I felt when I looked at him. His
face turned of a livid pallor; he looked murderous as he stood in his
tracks, glaring at me. He was, I am certain, afraid to trust himself
to speak, or to remain near me. He bounded out of the house shouting
"Whoa! Whoa!" as he ran. Guard was dozing by the doorstep. Mr.
Horton's action and call were so sudden that he sprang up, wide awake,
looking eagerly around, under the impression that his services were in
requisition. Though nearly full grown he was still a puppy, with many
things to learn. The horse, also startled by Mr. Horton's outcry,
raised his head, turning it from side to side as he looked back in
search of the creature that had made such a direful noise. He
quickened his pace into a trot, checked painfully whenever he stepped
on the trailing bridle.
An older and wiser dog than Guard, seeing the saddle and the trailing
bridle, would have known better than to attempt to practice his
"heeling" accomplishments on the animal that wore them. But Guard,
eager to air his lately-acquired knowledge, stopped for no such
considerations. Passing Mr. Horton, who was running after the horse,
like a flash, he made a bee-line for that gentleman's mount. Reaching
the animal, he crouched and bit one of his heels sharply. As the horse
bounded away, he followed, nipping the flying heels and yelping with
excitement. Mr. Horton toiled along in their rear and I ran after
him--not actuated by any strong desire to come to his assistance, but
in fear of what might happen should he succeed in laying hands on
Guard. The very set of his vanishing shoulders told me that he was
purple with rage and fatigue, and I had good cause to fear for the
safety of the dog, to whom I called and whistled, imploringly. After a
chase of about half a mile, Guard, making a wide detour around Mr.
Horton, came slinking back to me. He was evidently troubled with
misgivings as to the propriety of his conduct, and crouched in the
dust at my feet, looking up at me with beautiful beseeching eyes. "You
did very, very wrong!" I admonished him, earnestly. "You are
never--ne-ver--to heel a horse that has a saddle or bridle on. Do you
understand?"
Guard hung his head dejectedly, his bright eyes seeming to say that he
understood, and would profit by the lesson.
Returning to the house I went in again instead of mounting the waiting
horse and getting about my delayed errand.
"Did Mr. Horton catch his horse?" Jessie inquired.
"I don't know; I hope not, I'm sure. I think a five-mile walk will do
him good. He'll have time to cool off a little."
"He thinks that we have made a false entry here," Jessie went on,
resentfully, approaching the window ledge and turning the leaves of
the record. "Why," she continued, "it does not seem to me that even a
hardened criminal would dare to do a thing like that! And I'm not a
hardened criminal--yet. I am not sure but that I might become one if
I am obliged to see much of Mr. Horton, though!" She closed the book
and, stepping up on a chair, laid it on the shelf where our few books
were kept. When she stepped down again she had another book in her
arms. It was a large, square, leather-bound volume, almost identical
in appearance with the one that she had just laid away.
"What are you looking in the dictionary for?" I asked, as she laid the
book on the broad window ledge that made such a convenient
reading-desk.
"I want to know exactly what 'fundamental' means," she replied. "I
know pretty well, or I think I do, but I want to know exactly."
Finding the word, she presently read aloud:
"'Fundamental--pertaining to the foundation; hence, essential,
elementary; a leading or primary principle; an essential.'"
"Well, that's plain enough," she said, closing the book; "but I think
we have looked out for fundamental clauses pretty faithfully. I wish
that Joe was at home; we must get an early start to-morrow. It is
foolish to feel so, when we know just how matters stand; but, somehow,
Mr. Horton's threats have made me uneasy."
"No wonder! The very sight of him is enough to make one shudder. But I
don't see that there is anything that we can do, more than we are
doing, Jessie."
"You might ride over, since you are going out anyway, and tell Mr.
Wilson what Mr. Horton has been saying. If you call on Mr. Drummond,
who is our main hope for raising the money, you'll pass Wilson's,
anyway."
"Oh, yes! I'll see him, sure; and now I must be going."
I went out accordingly, observing in an absent way, as I left the
room, that, since no fundamental clause required Jessie to replace the
dictionary on its shelf, it was still lying on the window-ledge.
I rode immediately over to Mr. Wilson's, and was fortunate in finding
him at home. He promised to "turn the thing over in his mind," and, if
there seemed to him, as a result of this process, anything, any new
move, called for on our part, to ride over during the day and let us
know.
Then I went on to the two or three places that we had in mind as most
promising, if one desired to raise money, and failed distinctly, in
every case. It was, as one of the ranchmen feelingly explained, "a dry
time; between hay and grass. Too late for the spring round-up and too
early for the fall harvest." Every one was, accordingly, lacking in
ready cash.
I returned home, not greatly dejected by my failure, since, thanks to
Mr. Wilson, I had so well understood the existing conditions before
starting out that I would have been surprised if I had succeeded.
Joe being still absent, I was obliged to care for Frank myself. When,
in the dusky twilight, I at length entered the house, it was to find
little Ralph already fast asleep and Jessie about starting for the
corral with the milk-pail.
"Haven't you got the milking done yet, Jessie?"
"No; I waited for Ralph to get to sleep and for you to come. Did you
get any money?"
"No."
Jessie sighed. "I don't know, after all, that I much expected that you
would. Well, if you can wait a little for your supper, come out to the
corral and let me tell you what Mr. Wilson has been saying."
"Has he been here again?"
"Yes; he just left a few minutes before you came."
We went on out to the corral where the cows were waiting to be milked,
Guard following after us with as much sedateness and dignity as if he
had never contemplated, much less committed, a foolish act in his
life.