MR. THOMAS IS AMUSED.
With all his clumsiness Billie had always seemed to be a lucky fellow.
In times gone by his chums had often informed him that he must bear a
charmed life; because when so stubbornly trying to break in that wild
broncho Jupiter, the fat boy had taken many a header that threatened to
do him serious injury; but had always "come up smiling" after each
experience, and ready to try it again.
And apparently his good fortune still held good, for when he took that
flying leap through the open window of the ranch house, he did not have
the remotest idea where he would land, and yet he managed to strike in a
soft place.
It had been a very narrow escape, though; for hardly had the fat boy
passed through the opening than it was occupied by the figure of Mrs.
Comstock, with both her hands eagerly outstretched, showing that she had
anticipated seizing hold of the intruder.
When he landed Billie purposely rolled over several times. He seemed to
have a dreadful fear lest the Amazon follow him through the window; just
as a pursuing boy might have done.
Having turned over completely several times he managed to sit up so as
to take notice of the situation, and get his bearings.
The first thing he saw was the head of Mr. Thomas thrust around the end
of the nearby bunk house; and it was strange that Billie just happened
to notice how cautiously the pilgrim of the trail was peeping, as though
he would not be seen for worlds; there was a look of intense interest on
his thin face, too, as if he felt a personal interest in the wild flight
of the lad.
Next Billie saw Uncle Fred. He was trying to buckle the recovered belt
around his waist, and making a poor job of it, because his fingers were
trembling with the excitement; and besides, he felt it necessary to keep
one eye fastened on that window, in which the form of his muscular
better-half could be seen outlined.
Billie also noted with solid satisfaction that the woman did not seem to
be making any move in his direction. She must have recognized the fact
that her expected prey had eluded her grasp, and was satisfied to let
things go at that.
But she was waving her fist in his direction, Billie noted; and his
heart beat with thanksgiving that he had been so fortunate as to avoid
feeling the weight of that hand.
"What do you mean acrawling in through the back windows of this house,
you fat cub?" she called out at him.
Perhaps Billie had long ago become so accustomed to having all manner of
fun poked at him by his boy friends, on account of his ponderous size
that he had ceased to get angry at any sort of nickname.
Still, that was "a new one on him," he afterwards declared, and it
rather rankled to be called a "fat cub."
Billie was always polite, especially with the other sex; and so he
managed to scramble to his feet, rather awkwardly to be sure, for he had
skinned his left knee in landing after that wild plunge; and trying to
make a sort of half-way sort of bow, he said:
"I beg your pardon ma'm, but I was acting under orders from the boss. He
wanted his gun so's to be ready to fight the rustlers if they came
along, and asked me to get the same for him; so I clumb in through the
window, because he said that was the shortest way around. And when you
came so sudden-like on me, why, I just got rattled some, I s'pose, and
took a jump through the window. But no damage was done 'cept that I
knocked a piece of skin off my left knee 'bout as big as my hand, feels
like. Sorry to have bothered you, ma'm, but I tried not to make any
noise, sure I did."
"Yes, you crept in just like a thief, and I reckon that's what line you
follow when you're to home," the angry woman flung at him, accompanying
each word with a furious shake of her hand, which seemed disappointed
not to have been able to bury itself among Billie's hair.
"It was all my fault, Josie," remarked Mr. Comstock just then, possibly
ashamed to let the boy bear the brunt of her displeasure; "I wanted my
belt very much; and you seemed to be having one of your headaches, so I
thought I wouldn't pass in through your room and disturb you. I asked
him to just crawl through the window and reach my belt, which he
succeeded in doing. It's all right, Josie!"
"Oh! you think so, do you, Mr. Fred Comstock?" she cried shrilly, and
with her blazing eyes turned toward her husband. "Shows what sort of a
coward you are, sir, to employ a silly fool of a boy to pull your
chestnuts out of the fire for you!"
"But sometimes the fire burns a fellow's fingers, you know, Josie; and
I've learned long ago not to worry you when--you're not feeling well,"
the deposed manager of Bar-S Ranch went on to say, perhaps a little more
boldly than he might have dared had the distance separating him from the
lady been less.
As if afraid that he had been too rash in saying so much Uncle Fred
turned, and hurried away, calling out as he started:
"Better come along, Billie; plenty to look after for all of us who are
left behind. You did your work well, and I want to tell you I'm glad you
didn't get--that is, your injuries are not worse than a skinned knee.
There are more dreadful things that can happen, my boy, take it from
me."
This last he uttered in a low tone, and even at that something caused
him to cast a glance of apprehension over his shoulder when speaking;
but Mrs. Fred had vanished from the window.
As they turned the corner of the bunk-house they discovered the form of
Thomas writhing on the ground.
"Here, what's ailing you, my friend?" demanded the late manager; "if
you've been suddenly taken sick I'm sorry that my medicine case is in my
desk; and just at present it's a physical impossibility for either
Billie or myself to step in there to get it. Where do you feel bad?"
At that the pilgrim of the trail looked up, and they saw that he was
grinning.
"'Tain't that I'm taken with the gripe, sir; not in the least," he
explained. "I'm only tickled to death at the narrow escape our young
friend had. I thought he was a goner when I heard you shout out that
warning, and saw him still inside there; but he made a great plunge. My!
but the lady was provoked because he slipped out like a greased pig. It
was a lucky escape for Broncho Billie, now, wasn't it, sir?"
He chuckled as he said this, and even winked at Uncle Fred in a queer
way. The late manager of the ranch turned somewhat red in the face, and
eyed the other a little suspiciously. Then he shook his head.
"Perhaps you know how peculiar some women are when they can't have
everything they want, my friend," he remarked; "and how they're apt to
carry on. It may be now that you've had experience in the years that are
past and gone? Well, in that case you'll understand me when I remark
that the least said the soonest mended. Forget what you chanced to see,
and things will come easier for you here. Ladies have their
peculiarities, and my wife never did like me tracking up her floors.
That may be why I had Billie here make use of the window; because I've
often used it myself rather than go all the way around."
Mr. Thomas winked an eye again, and nodded his head in a knowing way, as
if to admit that he might have passed through similar experiences at
some time in his past life.
Billie could not help thinking that the wanderer seemed to have been
hugging himself while he rolled there on the ground, just as though he
felt a personal satisfaction in the escape of the boy who had been one
of those befriending him on the trail.
If this were really the cause of his hilarity it showed that Mr. Thomas
was not without at least some degree of gratitude because of the favors
they had bestowed on him.
As the incident seemed closed now, and there were plenty of other things
looming up in the near future that demanded attention, Billie cast it
out of his mind. He only allowed it to crop up each time his wounded
knee gave him a little twinge, as he limped around after Mr. Comstock.
The stockman was soon very busy. He seemed to act like a different man,
now that he could feel the presence of his faithful gun at his side
whenever he allowed his hand to drop that way.
Billie followed him to the corrals, which he inspected carefully, as
though meaning to discover any weakness that might interfere with his
plans. Every few minutes the ranchman would shade his eyes with his hand
and look earnestly around in several directions. Billie understood that
he was hoping to discover the first signs of the coming herds, which
might be only in the shape of a cloud of dust along the horizon.
It was an anxious time, for a great deal depended on getting the stock
in where the faithful drovers could guard it, until such time as the
danger of a bold raid was past. Mr. Comstock had had so much trouble
with the Walker crowd in the past that he would not put anything beyond
them nowadays. Men become flushed with success, and even lose their
accustomed shrewdness; and while it would seem to be a reckless thing
for these rustlers to work in the open, still, acting under the belief
that they had a friend at court in the shape of Comstock's wife, who
would restrain him from taking any radical measures looking to
resistance; and also knowing that half the force of Bar-S Ranch was
virtually ready to side with the raiders, there could be no telling what
would happen.
Billie, too, began to cast frequent looks along the distant horizon, in
the hope of discovering the first signs that would indicate the coming
of his chums, along with the cattle, and the other cow-punchers.
It was almost an hour after his little adventure along the flying
machine order that Billie suddenly discovered what he sought.
"They're coming, Mr. Comstock!" he called, limping toward the ranchman,
who was busily engaged doing some mending at a weak place in the corral,
which was made partly of ropes, and the balance of heavy poles brought
from the river bottom miles and miles away; "I can see dust in two
places; yes, and when the wind picked up just now I believe I heard the
bellowing of cows."
So the ranchman clapped his glasses to his eyes, and immediately
corroborated what the boy had so confidently declared.
"That's right, Billie!" he remarked, in some excitement; "and as sure as
you live I can see that the boys are shoving them along quite lively. I
hope now they haven't sighted the Walker clan coming with a rush;
because, until we get those herds in the corrals with the rest here I'll
never feel satisfied," and he fingered his gun, as though half tempted
to jump on a horse, and gallop out to meet the drivers.