OVERHEARD
When Roy Manley left Teddy alone by the bush and went through the night
toward the camp he had just left, two thoughts were paramount in his
mind. One was that he hated to trick his brother with the knife story.
The other was that Mob Jamisson had not met the Lefton boys accidentally.
As to the first, he had no need to give himself concern. Teddy had not
been fooled. He knew, he was sure, that the tale of the lost knife had
been only a ruse to allow Roy to return without being laughed at if his
efforts at spying bore no fruit. And as to the second thought, it was
based on sound reasoning.
A man who has just become acquainted with another does not pitch camp
with him on the prairie unless they agree to be partners in some sort
of enterprise. Hence the three pup tents indicated one thing--that the
two Lefton boys and Mob Jamisson had joined forces. For what purpose
Roy could not even speculate, but he was satisfied that it had nothing
to do with Sunday-school--not with Jamisson having a hand in it.
By this time Roy could see the red haze of the campfire, and he
dismounted and led Star forward. He felt uneasy at repaying the
hospitality of his hosts with such a questionable procedure, but,
telling himself that the end justified the means, he went on.
Star, he knew, would be as silent as himself, and he had no fear of
discovery until he chose to show himself. If, by chance, they did find
him out, he could always claim that he had returned after the lost
knife.
As to the exact reason of this night sally, Roy was not even certain
himself. It was on impulse that he decided that this was the one time
to learn as much as possible about the Lefton brothers.
Why had they asked all those questions of the X Bar X hands when they
did not intend to buy cattle? And surely it was plain now that all
thought of purchasing cows had departed from their minds, if, indeed,
they had ever held such thoughts.
When they had first come to the X Bar X, they purposely gave the
impression that they were cattle buyers. Why? It seemed now to Roy that
they had never had any real intention of entering into negotiations.
If they had meant actually to buy cattle, why had they dropped the
project, even before terms were mentioned?
Thus it seemed to Roy that his conduct now was perfectly logical.
He knew that Teddy would scoff at the idea of spying on the Leftons
and attempt to dissuade him from his purpose. But Roy, romantically
inclined, saw things in a different light. He determined to play the
part of investigator.
The low tones of the three men reached him as he drew nearer the camp.
As yet he could not distinguish words, but placing his hand over Star’s
nose to avoid any possibility of discovery he walked quietly closer.
He saw that Mob Jamisson sat with his back toward him and that the
other two faced Mob. Jerry was talking in excited tones.
“--easily six hundred head,” he was saying. “Fine, splendid cattle!
Healthy! I tell you that you people out here don’t realize what it
means to have cattle like that.”
“But how?” Bill questioned. “The cars--”
“Getting cars would be a cinch! Nothing to it! Why, it’s only an eight
mile run, you know.”
“That’s a fact!” Mob broke in. “Eight miles isn’t far. The old Jarmey
place--”
“Wait!” Bill raised his hand. “I heard something. If it’s--You! What
the mischief--”
“I dropped my knife,” Roy answered steadily, moving closer to the fire.
His hands hung at his sides, limp, innocent of weapon. “Just rode up
this second. See it around here, any of you? Silver, with my initials
on it.”
“You just rode up, you said?” Mob demanded springing up and striding
forward. “How comes we didn’t hear you, hey? First thing we know you’re
on top of us. You’ve been listening--”
“What difference does it make?” Roy asked calmly.
“What? Say, you--”
“I said, what difference does it make how I came up? I tell you I lost
my knife and came back for it. Why all the argument? What’s wrong about
losing a knife? The way you talk you’d think I’d overheard something I
should not have. What do you think I am, anyhow?”
“He’s right, Mob,” Jerry said quickly. “You must be pretty nervous
to-night. I can’t figure out why you’re making such a fuss myself. Go
ahead, look for the knife, Manley. We’ll help.”
Mob Jamisson, realizing that he was beaten, subsided. He looked at Roy
intently. Just how much of their conversation had the boy heard? He
could not ask without indicating that there was something he wished to
keep secret.
As Roy bent over the ground, Mob’s hand fell to his gun--then came
slowly away. He had seen the firelight glitter on metal at Roy’s
side--and guns in holsters do not reflect light. Chin in hand, he stood
contemplating the youth.
“Got it!” Roy exclaimed suddenly, and straightened. He held an object
in his hand. “Found it hidden under a stick. Lucky, hey?”
“It is lucky,” Bill said quietly. “It would have been too bad for you
to come all the way back and then not find the knife.”
“I’ll tell a maverick it would!” Roy answered easily. If the Lefton
brothers had expected him to show embarrassment at the pointed
statement he was disappointed. “Well, I’ll be getting along. Thanks for
helping me.”
“Sure you got everything now?” Mob asked truculently. “Yore hat? Belt?
Ain’t lost yore pants, have you?”
“Don’t think so,” Roy answered seriously. “Nope, I’m sure I haven’t.
But thanks for asking. Hold still now, bronc, while I climb up. Right.
So long!”
There was no reply. Chuckling, Roy rode off into the night.
He found Teddy easily, and together the two boys started homeward.
After some moments Teddy inquired:
“Find it, Roy?”
“Uh-huh.”
Silence, except for the hoof-beats of their mounts. Then, Teddy:
“Nice night, isn’t it?”
“Wonderful!”
“See here, you secretive bronco-buster, if you think I’m going to ask
all sorts of silly questions--”
“All right, laddy!” Roy burst out laughing. “All I needed was coaxing.
Now you tend to your knitting and I’ll tell you the story of my journey
to Walla-Walla land. I arrived all safe and sound, and stood on the
door-step a moment before ringing the bell. Voices came to me from an
open window.” Suddenly he became serious. “Teddy, what has the Jarmey
place got to do with autos? Are there any cars kept there?”
“Cars? Not that I know of. Unless you mean freight cars. There’s a
siding near there, you know.”
“Freight cars! Golly, I never thought of that! Cars! Well, yes, they
might be freight cars. Anyway, that’s what the voices were talking
about. Cars and the Jarmey place and something about an eight mile run.
And--oh, yes, cattle. Six hundred head.”
“Who said that?”
“Jerry Lefton. Can you figure out what he may have meant?”
“Not me. We’ll see what dad has to say about it. Got your badge on?”
“What badge?”
“Detective.”
Roy chuckled and urged his pony on.
As they rode into the ranch yard, past the bunkhouse, Nick Looker
called to them:
“You fellers must have been puttin’ up a new fence.” He came closer,
and they waited for him. “What happened to Flash? Fall?”
“Not quite,” Teddy answered. “He stuck his leg in a hole at a very
embarrassing moment. We almost had supper with a pack of wolves.”
“Wha-a-a-at?”
“Fact! We met a whole gang of ’em. You and Gus had better do a little
hunting in the morning.” And the story was told.
Nick expressed his surprise that the animals should be in this region,
and promised to see that they were driven out. When he heard about the
Leftons’ part in the affair he nodded sagely.
“Thought they might be around here somewhere. With Mob Jamisson, hey?
Better tell the boss. He’ll be interested.”
Of all the cowboys on the X Bar X Ranch Teddy and Roy liked Nick Looker
as well as anyone. Nick was generous to the core, as had been evinced
when he had inherited quite a sum from an uncle and had promptly helped
one cowboy out of a financial hole, squared up with another for losing
his six hundred dollars, and then aided some distant relatives who
suddenly came to light and proved to be poor. And on top of all this
he had distributed some of the cash between his bunkhouse friends not
by giving it to them direct but by pretending to lose to them at cards.
Mr. Manley was not quite so interested as Teddy and Roy thought he
would be, even after hearing of the remarks about “six hundred head”
and “Jarmey’s place,” and “cars.”
“Just talk, I reckon,” he declared. He pulled the ends of his long
black mustache and looked at his sons quizzically. “No need to tell
mother about the wolves. She’s got enough to think about.”
“But, Dad,” Teddy persisted, “what do you make of the Lefton brothers?”
“Don’t make anything. I’m certain that they don’t want to buy our
cattle, for all their questions, an’ that’s all that interests me.
Let’s go in.” They had been standing on the porch of the ranch house.
“See Nick when you came by?”
“Yes, he’s over at the bunkhouse. Come on, Teddy, we’ll say hello to
mother. Guess my detective work went for nothing; hey, Dad?”
Mr. Manley laughed and placed a hand on his son’s shoulders. He was
tall, this ranch owner, with a pair of eyes that were as keen as the
day he rode the ranges as a puncher. “You stick to it, Roy. Never mind
what Teddy says. I suppose he laughed at you for sneaking back for
your knife?”
“I did at first, Dad. But not when Roy told me what he had heard,”
Teddy answered seriously. “I’ll bet that meant something--about the
cars and the rest of it. But I reckon you know best.”
“We won’t say anything to mother about the wolves. We’re glad enough to
forget ’em,” added Roy.
“So it was that close, eh?” Mr. Manley looked at his sons keenly. They
had not told him exactly how near they had been to death, not wanting
to seem important. Their father guessed, however, what they left out.
“Pretty close, Dad,” Roy answered in a low voice. “We have the Lefton
brothers and Mob Jamisson to thank that we’re here.”
Mr. Manley drew a corncob pipe from his pocket and filled it. He lit it
and exhaled a cloud of smoke before he spoke.
“I’d rather see wolves on four feet than on two,” he said slowly. Then,
raising his voice: “Belle Ada wants to visit at the 8 X 8 to-morrow.
You two go along with her. See you later.” He strode down the steps and
walked toward the bunkhouse. Teddy, watching him go, grinned.
“Dad is getting your habit, Roy. I’d like to know just how much he
does think of that conversation you heard. Two-legged wolves! Well,
the more we learn the less we know. Come in, my child, your bed-time
approaches. Oh-h-h, snakes, but I’m sleepy!”
Stretching high, he kicked open the door and entered the house.