AN ENGLISHMAN IN CAMP
As Mason stepped out of the saloon, turning up the street toward the
stable, he saw Ross walking toward him with a tall, large, red-headed
young man, who was evidently an Englishman. As they met, Mason spoke.
"I'm going to start back now, Ross. I've finished up my business here
in town."
"Hold on a minute," said Ross. "Here's a man just come in on the
passenger this morning, who wants to go out into the country where
you're going, and I told him maybe you could help him. Mr. Donald, this
is Jack Mason."
"If I can help you, Mr. Donald, I'll be glad to," Mason said as the two
shook hands; "but I'm just going back to the round-up camp, forty miles
or so from here."
"Well," explained the young man, "I was thinking of going out to Mr.
Sturgis's ranch. He lives somewhere up North, about forty miles, I
think he told me, from the railroad. Is his place anywhere near your
camp?"
"No; but there are two or three of his men along with our outfit, and
if you want to come out there with me, some one of them may be going
over to his place before long, and could take you there. It's a
perfectly plain road from here out to the ranch, just as soon as a man
knows the road, but if he doesn't know it, he's liable to get lost a
good many times before he gets there."
"Yes," said Ross, "I told Donald that it was a plain road out to the
Sturgis ranch, but that there were about twenty roads turning off from
it, and it wouldn't be easy to take the right one."
"Have you got a horse to ride?" asked Mason.
"No," answered Donald, "I have no horse; but I was going to buy a horse
and saddle, or perhaps two horses, here in town. Mr. Ross says that he
has one that he would either sell or hire, and that he thinks he could
find another that I could use as a pack horse."
"Are you used to the saddle?"
"Yes; I have ridden a little."
"Let's go back to my house," said Ross, "and sit down and talk it over,
and I can soon find out what we can do about horses."
As they walked back up the street, Ross turned to Mason.
"So you've finished up all your business, have you, Jack?" he asked.
"Yes; I'm ready to pull my freight as soon as I can put the saddle on
my horse."
"Well," commented Ross, with a little twinkle of his eye, "it seems to
me you got through pretty quick."
"So, so," drawled Mason. "It didn't take me long after I once got at
it."
"Well," said Ross, "I don't want to quarrel with you, Jack Mason; but
you look to me like the biggest fool that I've seen since I come into
Wyoming Territory."
Mason laughed heartily.
"Come on, come on, Ross," he said. "What's your riddle? What do you
mean?"
"Why," Ross answered, "I believe you didn't come into this town for a
single thing except to find Claib Wood and break him all up, when the
chances were all in his favor that he'd kill you before you could bat
an eye."
"Oh, come, Ross," said Mason; "you're doing a lot of guessing. Didn't I
tell you when I first came into town that I didn't know that Claib Wood
was here?"
"Yes, you did say that, but I'll bet you a new suit of clothes that if
you didn't know he was here, you felt mighty sure that he was; and that
if you hadn't felt sure you wouldn't have come to town."
"If I had an imagination like yours, Ross," laughed Mason, "and could
use a pen a little better than I can, I'd have made a fortune long ago
writing for the newspapers."
"Oh, come off, Jack," returned Ross. "I've known you too long. Don't
give me any guff of that kind."
They reached the door of Ross's house, and Mason changed the subject.
"I understand that you've got a horse and saddle for Mr. Donald. Is
that so?"
"Right," answered Ross.
"Then, suppose you take him around and see if you can get a pack horse
and saddle on any terms that'll suit him, and come back here. I'll go
up and saddle the two horses, and we can put Mr. Donald's bed on the
one you get; then roll, and get to camp to-morrow morning."
The preparations for the journey did not take long, and the sun was yet
two or three hours high when Mason and the young Englishman trotted
off over the dry prairie. Mason led the pack horse and Donald rode
behind, to urge it on in case this should be necessary, but it went so
very well that before long, its hackamore was tied up, and it trotted
swiftly on behind or beside Jack Mason's horse, though Donald still
rode behind it as a precautionary measure.
About ten o'clock at night they reached the point where the road must
be left to go across the prairie to the camp. Here they stopped and
removed the saddles from the horses, allowing them to roll and to eat
a bite of grass. Then they saddled and started off again; and it was
getting light when Mason pointed out to Donald the white wagon covers
of the camp, and the cattle that dotted the hillsides not far from it.
Mason had told Donald that he would better turn his animals into the
cávaya the next day, in order that they might rest, and had suggested
that he himself might like to ride in the bed wagon and sleep during
the day, but the Englishman very quietly said that he thought he would
go along with some part of the outfit, if he had a horse which he could
ride.
As the new arrivals sat by the fire, waiting for the announcement of
breakfast, the sleepy cowboys rose one by one from their beds, and
after dousing their heads and arms in cold water, gathered around the
fire. Breakfast was soon over, and just as the men were saddling up,
Jack Danvers and Vicente, who had been on the last relief of the night
herd, came trotting into camp. Jack was introduced to Donald, who told
him he was headed for Swift Water Ranch when he could get there, and
the two young men shook hands cordially.
"I have been out in this western country two or three times," said
Donald, "but this is the first time I have stopped in a cow camp. It
must be very interesting and full of excitement, I should think."
"Well," said Jack, "that depends on what you call excitement. I can
tell you it is full of hard work; and just about as soon as the bloom
of novelty has worn off, hard work is all you see of it. I can remember
when I was a little fellow that I used to think it would be the
greatest fun in the world to have a string of horses and ride around
wearing shaps and clinking spurs, and maybe with a silver saddle-horn;
but I have seen too much of it to care for it greatly now. How is it
with you, Joe?" he asked, turning to Tulare Joe, who stood rolling a
cigarette by the fire, with his horse's bridle rein over his arm.
"Well, Jack, I guess you've been through some school and have learned
some lesson. Cow punching is awful good fun to read about, but reading
is the best part of it. Books don't ever tell you how thick the dust
is, nor how dry you get, nor how sore you become from riding, nor how
mean a horse or a cow or a steer can be. No, the books leave out all
that sort of thing."
"Well, Mr. Donald," said Jack, "you are going along with us for a few
days until you get a chance to go over to Uncle Will's, aren't you?"
"Yes," answered Donald; "that is what I should like to do. But if I
am going to stay in the camp, I should like to be of some use. I don't
want to just ride a horse up and down and nothing else. I'd like to
earn my grub, if I do nothing more."
"Mason says you have no horses to ride," said Jack; "and, of course, on
a round-up a man cannot do much without horses."
"No," admitted Donald; "but I was wondering whether I could not hire
three or four horses--say one from each of four or five men, so that I
could really do some riding. I would enjoy the experience; and, while I
do not know anything about the work, I fancy I could learn. Of course,
I am more or less used to the saddle."
"Of course you could learn," replied Jack. "It is just riding and being
able to put your string on an animal when you need to."
"There is where I am weak," Donald said. "I know nothing about roping.
Of course, if a horse is walking in a corral I can put a noose over his
head; but as for standing off and throwing it far, I cannot do that."
"That's easy to learn," explained Joe, as he threw down the end of the
brand with which he had lighted his cigarette. "Any of us could teach
you all you have to know about that in a mighty short while."
"What are you going to do to-day?" asked Jack.
"Why, Mason said that he would lend me a horse out of his string for
the day, as both of mine traveled all night, and I thought I would ride
along either with the cattle herd or the horse bunch, and use my eyes
as much as I could."
"That's a good idea," said Jack. "Now Joe and I are going out with
the cattle herd to-day, and if you want to come with us, you can see
something, and I think you can learn something too."
"Ripping," was Donald's answer.
"Well, I'll go over and see Mason and find out what horse he wants you
to ride and then we'll get started; but, hold on, here's Mason now;"
and a moment later Mason rode up to the fire and handed to Donald the
rope that was about the neck of a small but beautiful bay horse.
"Have you fixed on what you're going to do, Donald?" he asked; and
Donald told him what they had decided on.
"That's bully," said Mason. "I'm riding with the herd to-day, so we'll
be together again."
As they rode off toward the herd, Donald turned to Jack.
"It seems to me that Mason is a great man," he said.
"How do you mean?"
"Why, all last night as we rode along he was singing and whistling and
making jokes, and telling funny stories. Three or four times I nearly
fell off my horse from laughing at him; and yet the day before that,
according to the story, he beat up a man in town so that he will have
to be in bed for six weeks."
"Beat up a man!" exclaimed Jack. "That couldn't have been Mason."
"Why," said Donald, in some confusion, "I hope it is not a secret.
Everybody in town was talking about it. I was only there a few hours,
and five or six men spoke to me about it. It seems that a man there
tried to draw his gun on Mason, and Mason was too quick for him. He
picked him up and threw him pretty nearly through the side of the house
and almost broke his neck."
"Great Cæsar's ghost!" exclaimed Jack. "That will be news to everybody
in this camp."
"Hold on," said Donald; "I wish you would not say anything about it
until somebody else does. I do not want to be carrying gossip around
from one place to another; but, as I told you, it was the only thing
that they were talking about in town day before yesterday. I fancy it
is the most exciting thing that has happened there for a long time."
"Yes," assented Jack, "I guess it's quiet enough there most of the
time; but say, what was the name of this man that Mason got into a
quarrel with?"
"I cannot remember what the full name was, but almost everybody spoke
of him as 'Claib.' I do not know any such name as that, but I suppose
it may be a nickname."
"Good Lord!" cried Jack; "why that must be Claib Wood! They say he is
one of the worst men in the country--a regular killer. He was ordered
away from here because he was suspected of cattle stealing--and they
say that there is hardly anybody in the country as quick with a gun as
he is."
"Well, he was not quick enough for Mason, it seems," said Donald. "I
asked one of the men in the saloon how it happened, and he said it was
so quick he really did not know how it did happen. He said that the two
men seized hold of each other, and that Mason called out to somebody
to take away both guns, that there was not to be a shooting-match; and
then a minute or two later Mason lifted up Claib and threw him against
the side of the house and through the plaster and almost out through
the boards. I saw the place and it certainly did look as if something
very heavy had been thrown against the wall."
"I'd like to know just what happened," said Jack; "but one could not
very well ask Mason; and I suppose we will have to wait until somebody
comes out from town to tell us the news."
"If you don't mind, I'd rather not have you say anything about what
I have told you, to any one here, for, as I say, I do not want to be
carrying tales."
"All right," promised Jack; "I'll keep quiet. But say, it seems to me
that this thing is one of the biggest jokes that ever was. I think
a lot of Mason and it seems to me that he was in great danger if he
was quarreling with Claib Wood; but you seem to have brought him back
perfectly well and sound."
The young Englishman grinned.
"Oh, yes; I brought him back."
All day long the men kept with the herd, and all day long the young
Englishman was practising throwing the rope, so that toward evening he
had a good idea of how to handle it, though oftener than not he missed
the object at which he was throwing. At the same time he was learning
the eccentricities of the rope, and a little more practise was likely
to make him reasonably skilful. All the boys insisted that practise,
practise, practise was the only way in which he could become expert,
and Donald determined that he would devote much time to this work for
the next two or three days.
That night at the fire, Jack, with a grave face, and having warned
Donald to be careful, began to ply Hugh and McIntyre with questions
about Claib Wood, asking how bad he was, whether he had killed many
men, and other pointed and pertinent questions. He seemed most anxious
for all possible particulars as to Claib Wood.
All the time he was watching Jack Mason, who, sitting by the fire with
an awl and a piece of buckskin string, was mending a pair of ripped
shoes. Mason, however, gave not the slightest evidence of interest
in the conversation, and at last Jack was obliged to abandon his
examination of the two older men, feeling that he had wholly failed in
his efforts to make Mason respond.