"One of these times," I says, "she'll come t' know that I only want
t' help her."
Next mornin', I started my jumpin'-jack business again. And _that_
whack, I shore got a rough layout: 'Round and 'round that blamed park,
two hunderd and forty-'leven times, without grub, 'r a drink, 'r even
water! And me a-hirin' that hoss _by the hour!_
Just afore sundown, she showed up, and passed me with her eyes fixed on
a spot about two miles further on. A little huffy, yet, y' might say!
I joked to that three-card-monte feller, you recollect, about bein'
busted. Wal, it was beginnin' t' look like no joke. 'Cause that very
next day I took some stuff acrosst the street to a pawnbroker gent's,
and hocked it. Then I sit down and writ a postal card t' the boys.
"_Pass 'round the hat,_" I says on the postal card, "_and send
me the collection. Bar that Mexic. Particulars later on._"
Wal, fer a week, things run smooth. When Mace seen it was no use to
change the time fer her ride, she kept to the mornin'. It saved me a
pile. But she wouldn't so much as look at me. Aw, I felt fewey, just
_fewey_.
One thing I didn't figger on, though--that was the _po_lice. They're
white, all right (I mean the _po_lice that ride 'round the park).
Pretty soon, they noticed I was allus ridin' behind Macie. I guess they
thought I was tryin' to bother her. Anyhow, one of 'em stopped me
one mornin'. "Young feller," he says, "you'd better ride along
Riverside oncet in a while. Ketch on?"
"Yas, sir," I says, salutin'.
Wal, I _was_ up a stump. If I was to be druv out of the park, how was I
ever goin' to be on hand when Macie 'd take a notion t' speak.
But I hit on a plan that was somethin' _won_-derful. I follered her
out and found where she stalled her hoss. Next day, I borraed a'
outfit and waited nigh her barn till she come in sight. Then, I fell
in behind--_dressed like one of them blamed grooms._
I thought I was slick, and I _was_--fer a week. But them park _po_lice is
rapid on faces. And the first one that got a good square look at me and
my togs knowed me instant. He didn't say nothin' to me, but loped off.
Pretty soon, another one come back--a moustached gent, a right dudey
one, with yalla tucks on his sleeves.
He rides square up to me. "Say," he says, "are you acquainted with
that young lady on ahaid?"
I tried to look as sad and innocent as a stray maverick. But it was no
go. "Wal," I answers, "our hosses nicker to each other."
He pulled at his moustache fer a while. "_You_ ain't no groom," he
says fin'lly. "Where you from?"
"I'm from the Bar Y Ranch, Oklahomaw."
"That so!" It seemed to plumb relieve him. All of a suddent, he got
as friendly as the devil. "Wal, how's the stock business?" he ast.
And I says, "Cows is O. K." "And how's the climate down you' way?
And how's prospects of the country openin' up fer farmers?"
After that, I shed the groom duds, and not a _po_lice gent ever more 'n
nodded at me. That Bar Y news seemed to make 'em shore easy in they
conscience.
But that didn't help me any with _her_. She was just as offish as ever.
Why, one day when it rained, and we got under the same bridge, she just
talked to her hoss all the time.
I went home desp'rate. The boys 'd sent me some cash, but I was shy
again. And I'd been to the pawnbroker feller's so many times that I
couldn't look a Jew in the face without takin' out my watch.
That night I mailed postal number two. "Take up a collection," I says
again; and added, "Pull that greaser's laig."
I knowed it couldn't allus go on like that. And, by jingo! seems as
if things come my way again. Fer one mornin', when I was settin' in a
caffy eatin' slap-jacks, I heerd some fellers talkin' about a herd of
Texas hosses that had stampeded in the streets the night back. Wal, I
ast 'em a question 'r two, and then I lit out fer Sixty-four Street,
my eyes plumb sore fer a look at a Western hoss with a' ingrowin' lope.
When I got to the corral, what do you think? Right in front of my eyes,
a-lookin' at the herd, and a-pointin' out her pick, was--Macie Sewell!
I didn't let her see me. I just started fer a harness shop, and I bought
a pair of spurs. "_Pre_pare, m' son," I says to myself; "it'll all
be over soon. They's goin' to be trouble, Cupid, trouble, when Mace
tries to ride a Texas bronc with a city edication that ain't complete."
She didn't show up in the park that day. I jigged 'round, just the
same, workin' them spurs. But early next mornin', as I done time on
my postage stamp, here Mace huv in sight.
Shore enough, she was on a new hoss. It was one of them blue roans, with
a long tail, and a roached mane. Gen'ally that breed can go like greased
lightnin', and outlast any other critter on four laigs. But this one
didn't put up much speed that trip. She'd been car-bound seventeen days.
Clost behind her, I come, practicin' a knee grip.
Nothin' happened that mornin'. Ev'ry time she got where the trail
runs 'longside the wagon-road, none of them locoed bull's-eye Simpson
vehicles was a-passin'. When she went to go into her stable, Mace slowed
her down till the street cars was gone by. The blue roan was meeker 'n
a blind purp.
But I knowed it couldn't _last_.
The next afternoon the roan come good and ready. She done a fancy gait
into the park. Say! a J. I. C. bit couldn't a' helt her! 'Twixt
Fifty-nine and the resservoyer, she lit just _four times;_ and ev'ry
time she touched, she kicked dirt into the eyes of the stylish _po_lice
gent that was keepin' in handy reach. A little further north, where
they's a hotel, she stood on her hind laigs t' look at the scenery.
I begun to git scairt. "Speak 'r _no_ speak," I says to myself, "I'm
goin' to move up."
That very minute, things come to a haid!
We was all three turned south, when 'long come a goggle-eyed smarty
in one of them snortin' Studebakers. The second the smarty seen Mace
was pretty, he blowed his horn to make her look at him. Wal! that roan
turned tail and come nigh t' doin' a leap-frog over me. The skunk in
the buzz-wagon tooted again. And we was off!
We took the return trip short cut. First we hit the brush, Mace's
hoss breakin' trail, mine a clost second, the _po_lice gent number
three. Then we hit open country, where they's allus a lot of young
fellers and gals battin' balls over fly-nets. The crowd scattered, and
we sailed by, takin' them nets like claim-jumpers. I heerd a whistle
ahaid oncet, and seen a fat _po_liceman runnin' our way, wavin' his
arms. Then we went tearin' on,--no stops fer stations--'round the
lake, down a road that was thick with keerages,--beatin' ev'rybody in
sight--then into timber again.
It was that takin' to the woods the second time that done it. In Central
Park is a place where they have ducks and geese (keep the Mayor in
aigs, I heerd). Wal, just to east, like, of that place, is a butte, all
rocks and wash-outs. The blue roan made that butte slick as a Rocky
Mountain goat. (We'd shook off the _po_lice gent.) At the top, she
pitched plumb over, losin' Mace so neat it didn't more 'n jar her.
My hoss got down on his knees, and I come offen _my_ perch. Then both
broncs went on.
I was winded, so I didn't speak up fer a bit. Fact is, I didn't
exac'ly know what to _re_mark. Oncet I thought I'd say, "You ridin'
a diff'rent hoss t'day, Mace?" 'r "That roan of yourn can lope
some." But both bein' kinda personal, I kept still.
But pretty soon, I got a hunch. "I just _knowed_ that blamed muley
saddle 'd butt me off some day," I says. "It was shore accomodatin',
though, to let me down right here."
She didn't say nothin'. She was settin agin a tree, another of them
two-mile looks in her eyes, and she was gazin' off west.