MR. PETERSON’S FORFEIT
“Good-bye, flowers!” shouted Teddy Manley, and ran closer to the scene
of impending disaster with a vague notion of doing something to stop
the onrushing monster. But as he took another look at the murderous
knives, he slowed up and halted. It was hopeless even to think of
causing Hortense to hesitate.
Mrs. Ball, attracted by the noise, rushed out to the porch, followed
by the three girls. When she saw the machine bearing down upon her
precious lilies, she let out a shriek of dismay.
“Stop it, somebody! Stop it! My flowers!”
“Might as well try to stop a herd of wild elephants!” Roy yelled. “Bug
Eye, can’t you--” he turned toward the puncher. To his surprise Bug Eye
had vanished.
“Where in thunder is that bucker?” he called. “Bug Eye! Come out here!”
By this time Hortense had approached to within ten feet of the flower
bed. Mrs. Ball leaned over the railing, calling frantically for someone
to do something.
“My lilies! My lovely lilies,” she groaned. “Can’t you stop that thing?
Bug Eye! Where--”
“Comin’, ma’am!”
Teddy and Roy swung around toward the bunkhouse. They saw a figure
burst through the door, arms waving. It was the missing puncher.
“I’ll stop her or bust!” he exclaimed. “Get ready, boys. You gotta’
help me pull!”
Then they saw the reason of his haste. In his hand he held a lariat,
and as he ran he began whirling it about his head.
“Yip-ee! Go get him!” Teddy shouted, and sprang after Bug Eye. “Rope
’er, cowboy!”
Faster and faster spun the rope. Now it was making a perfect circle
over the running punchers.
“Toss it! Be too late in a second!” Roy exclaimed.
But Bug Eye knew his business. Just at the moment when Hortense was
about to fall upon the flowers and grind them under her flashing
knives, the bucker threw. Like a striking rattlesnake the rope snapped
forward, and the loop settled hungrily full about the raised motor.
“Yay! He made it! Grab hold, Roy! Yank!”
Yank they did. Three pair of well-muscled arms seized the rope and
pulled.
The lariat jerked taut. Hortense, on the very edge of the flower bed,
was halted. She seemed to pause uncertainly, as though an unwelcome
stranger had tapped her on the shoulder. Then, with a protesting roar,
she reared on her hind wheels and fell over backwards.
“Yow! Hog tie her, Bug Eye! Three seconds flat! That’s first prize,
sure!”
Like some giant bug, Hortense lay on her back with her wheels
spinning madly. Her roar gradually sank lower and lower. She coughed
once--twice, trembled in the throes of a death struggle, and yielded up
the ghost. The flowers were saved.
Bug Eye, his face drawn into lines of despair, contemplated the wrecked
machine. Then he sighed.
“She’s done for,” he said sadly. “Poor Hortense! Just temperament,
that’s all ailed her!”
“Just--just--” Roy stuttered, and choked. “She was only eccentric, Bug
Eye! That’s all! Poor--”
“Bug Eye Wilson, come here!”
Mrs. Ball, her head thrust forward, stood on the steps. “Come here to
me!”
“Yes, ma’am,” and Bug Eye, sighing profoundly, walked meekly forward.
As he passed the still form of his beloved Hortense, with the rope,
like a long, thin tail, still hanging from her, he shook his head and
muttered:
“You weren’t long for this world, old girl! Motor busted clean off the
chassis. Well--”
“Bug Eye, what do you mean by sending that engine of destruction on to
my flower bed?”
“I didn’t go for to send it on to the flower bed, ma’am,” Bug Eye
answered gently. “That was her own doin’s. I aimed her across the yard,
an’ the rest she did herself. Reckon she got tired of the straight an’
narrow.”
Speechless, Mrs. Ball stared at him. Then with a
what-can-you-do-with-a-man-like-that gesture of her hands, she turned
and entered the house.
The girls, who had stood watching the scene, let out peals of laughter.
The woebegone expression on Bug Eye’s face changed not a bit as he
rested a hand on one of Hortense’s wheels. To think that he, himself,
had been the cause of his beloved’s untimely decease was an added
reason for sadness.
“Cheer up, Bug Eye. You may be able to fix her,” Teddy called,
struggling hard against laughter.
“Nope--she’ll never be the same,” the puncher sighed. “Her life is
finished. But I sure saved the lilies, didn’t I?” he added in a
brighter tone.
“You certainly did,” Roy agreed. “I never saw a neater exhibition of
roping in my life. Think he ought to get a prize, girls?” he called to
Belle and her friends.
“He should--and I’ll see that he does!” Nell promised. “If I have to
bake it myself. Which do you like, Bug Eye--apple or lemon?”
“Huh? Oh, that’s all right. I’m used to tough breaks. Don’t worry about
me. Maybe it’s better off this way, anyhow.”
“He’s still thinking about Hortense,” Ethel whispered to Nell. “He was
so anxious to show Teddy and Roy how it worked, and the first time he
took it out it smashed. Let’s go in and leave him to his dead darling!”
Bug Eye, with the help of Teddy and Roy, at last carted the remains
away. And before they had decently disposed of her behind the bunkhouse
Bug Eye was aflame with a new idea--a way to utilize the parts for
which Hortense had no more use.
“Off with the old love--on with the new!” Teddy laughed. “What’s this
one to be, Bug Eye?”
“I’m not sure yet,” the puncher answered musingly. “Maybe a fire
extinguisher. Maybe--well, anything. But I know one thing! It won’t
have no way to move about!”
Teddy and Roy, with faces that were prone to grin suddenly when some
incident of the runaway Hortense was recalled, wandered about the yard,
leaving Bug Eye to his thoughts. They had decided to start back in an
hour or so, in order to be at the X Bar X for supper. Anxious as they
were to prolong their visit, so that they might talk to Nell and Ethel,
they knew there was plenty to be done at home. Round-up season is a
busy time for all.
Soon after dinner they said good-bye to the girls and started. The ride
home was uneventful, and they reached the ranch at four-thirty. As they
drove the flivver into the yard they saw that their father was talking
to a stranger down by the corral. When they had put the car away he
called them over.
“Boys, this is Mr. Peterson,” he said. “These are my two sons, Mr.
Peterson--Teddy and Roy.”
“Howdy!” the stranger greeted them. He offered his hand. The boys
thought they had never shaken hands with a man who seemed so lacking in
muscle. The hand was soft and flabby and limp.
Mr. Peterson was short, but not plump. Somehow, he appeared
unsubstantial, as though even a fair punch could knock him over.
Neither Teddy nor Roy realized that they were thinking of punching in
connection with Mr. Peterson.
“He wants some of our dogies,” Mr. Manley continued. “Six hundred head,
I think you said?”
Roy started, as if the figure brought some thought to his memory.
“Six hundred--that’s right,” Peterson replied. His voice was like his
manner, querulous, overbearing. “Of the best you got.”
“Don’t worry about that. What you pay for, you get,” Mr. Manley
declared shortly. Teddy got the impression that he shared their dislike
of the man. But business knows no likes or fancies.
“There’s one condition, but don’t suppose it makes much difference to
you,” Peterson said. “The firm I work for is in the habit of requiring
the seller to post a forfeit, so we’ll sure get the cattle we bargain
for. Just a matter of form--but the firm demands it. That’s all right
with you, isn’t it?”
“A forfeit?” Mr. Manley turned toward the boys. “Ever hear of that
bein’ done before, Roy?”
“Once in a while,” Roy answered. He looked at his father queerly. Why
had he asked him a question the answer of which he must have known
himself?
“Once in a while, hey? Well, Mr. Peterson, I guess we can accommodate
you. How much do you need?”
“Five hundred,” Peterson declared. “You can put it in the bank at
Eagles. Now that that’s settled, I’ll pay my deposit, just to make
matters shipshape. Here’s five hundred on our part. That enough?”
“Plenty. In fact, it isn’t necessary,” Mr. Manley said. “We do a great
deal of business on trust out here. But you’re the doctor.” He thrust
the roll of bills into his pocket. “Now where and when do you want
these cattle shipped?”