THE BOY FROM OUT WEST
Jimmy Logan and Dud Baker discussed the eccentricities of the obnoxious
youth they had encountered in the waiting-room for several minutes
after they were seated in the train. (By arriving a good ten minutes
before leaving time they had been able to take possession of two seats,
turning the front one over and occupying it with their suitcases.)
“Know what I think?” asked Jimmy, his choler having subsided. “Well,
I think he was having fun with us. There was a sort of twinkle in his
eye, Dud.”
“Maybe he was,” agreed the other. “He was a nice-looking chap. And the
way he lit into that big bully of a newsboy was dandy!”
“Guess he knows something about wrestling,” mused Jimmy. “Wish I did.
Let’s you and I take it up this winter, Dud.”
“That’s all well enough for you. Seniors don’t have anything to do. I’m
going to be pretty busy, though. Say, you don’t suppose that fellow is
coming to Grafton, do you?”
“If he is, he’s a new boy,” was the response. “Maybe he’s a Greenie.
A lot of Mount Morris fellows go back this way. It’s good we got here
early. This car’s pretty nearly filled. I wish it would hurry up and
go. I’m getting hungry.”
“How soon can we have dinner?” asked Dud.
“Twelve, I guess. They take on the diner down the line somewhere. Got
anything to read in your bag?”
Dud opened his suitcase, lifted out several magazines and offered
them for inspection. He was a slim boy of sixteen, or just short of
sixteen, to be exact, with very blue eyes, a fair complexion and
good features, rather a contrast to his companion who was distinctly
stocky, with wide shoulders and deep chest. Jimmy’s features were a
somewhat miscellaneous lot and included a short nose, a wide, humorous
mouth, a resolutely square chin and light brown eyes. His hair was
reddish-brown and he wore it longer than most fellows would have,
suggesting that Jimmy went in for football. Jimmy, however, did nothing
of the sort. In age he was Dud’s senior by four months. Both boys wore
blue serge suits, rubber-soled tan shoes and straw hats, all of a style
appropriate to the time of year, which was the third week in September.
The straw hats were each encircled by a scarlet-and-gray band, scarlet
and gray being the colors of Grafton School, to which place the two
boys were on their way after a fortnight spent together at Jimmy’s
home. The similarity of attire even extended to the shirts, which
were of light blue mercerized linen, and to the watch-fobs, showing
the school seal, which dangled from trousers’ pockets. It ended,
however, at ties at one extreme and at socks at the other, for Jimmy’s
four-in-hand was of brilliant Yale blue, and matched his hosiery, while
Dud wore a brown bow and brown stockings.
Jimmy turned over the magazines uninterestedly. “Guess I’ve seen
these,” he said, tossing them to the opposite seat. “I’ll buy something
when the boy comes through. I wonder what the new room’s like, Dud.”
“It’s bound to be better than the old one. I’m sorry we didn’t get one
on the top floor, though.”
“Guess we were lucky to get into Lothrop at all. That’s what comes of
leading an upright life, Dud, and standing in with Charley and faculty.
Bet you a lot of fellows got left this fall on their rooms. Gus Weston
has been trying for Lothrop two years. Wonder if he made it. Hope so.
Gus is a rattling good sort, isn’t he?”
“Yes. Do you suppose he will be the regular quarter-back this year?”
“Not unless Nick Blake breaks his neck or something. Gus will give him
a good run for it, though. Still, Bert Winslow and Nick are great
friends, and I guess Nick will naturally have the call.”
“Winslow never struck me as a fellow who would play a favorite,”
objected Dud.
“Of course not, but if you’re football captain and there are two
fellows who play about the same sort of game, and one is a particular
friend and the other isn’t, and――――”
“Here we go,” interrupted Dud as the conductor’s warning reached them
through the open window.
“Good work! That’s what I meant, you see. Bert will naturally favor
Nick. No reason why he shouldn’t. Besides, Nick was quarter last year
and he was a peach, too. Bet you we have a corking team this fall, Dud.
Look at the fellows we’ve got left over! Nick and Bert and Hobo and
Musgrave――――”
“Look!” exclaimed Dud in a low voice, nudging his companion. The train
had begun to move. Following the direction of Dud’s gaze, Jimmy’s eyes
fell on the form of the boy he had accosted in the station. The latter
was coming leisurely down the car aisle, looking on each side for a
seat. But the weather was warm and the passengers who were so fortunate
as to be sitting alone were loathe to share their accommodations.
The newcomer, however, displayed neither concern nor embarrassment.
Something about him said very plainly that if he didn’t take this seat
or that it was only because he chose not to, and not because he was
intimidated by scowls or chilly glances.
“Maybe,” began Dud, looking about the car, “we’d ought to turn this
over, Jimmy.”
But before Jimmy had time to answer the boy had paused in his progress
along the aisle and was smiling genially down on them.
He was, first of all, an undeniably good-looking youth. Even Jimmy was
forced to acknowledge that, although he did it grudgingly. In age he
appeared to be about sixteen, but he was tall for his years and big
in a well-proportioned way. He had brown hair that was neither light
nor dark, and eyebrows and lashes several shades paler. His face was
rather long and terminated in a surprisingly square chin. His brown
eyes were deeply set and looked out very directly from either side of a
straight nose. The mouth was a trifle too wide, perhaps, but there was
a pleasant curve to it, and at either end hovered two small vertical
clefts that were like elongated dimples. Face, neck and hands were
deeply tanned. For the rest, he was square-shouldered, narrow-waisted
and deep-chested, and there was an ease and freedom in his carriage and
movements that went well with the careless, self-confident look of him.
“Hello, fellows!” he said. “Mind if I sit here?” Whereupon, and without
waiting for reply, he lifted Jimmy’s suitcase to the rack above, piled
his own bag on top of Dud’s and settled himself opposite the latter.
“Warm, isn’t it?” he observed, removing his soft straw hat and putting
it atop his bag. As he did so his gaze traveled from Jimmy’s hat to
Dud’s, and: “Belong to the same Order, don’t you?” he said affably. “Is
it hard to get in?”
“School colors,” answered Dud stiffly.
“Oh! Thought maybe you were Grand Potentates of the High and Mighty
Order of Kangaroos or something.”
“You’re chock full of compliments, aren’t you?” asked Jimmy. “Called us
Eskimos a few minutes ago, I think.”
“No, you got that wrong, Harold. What I meant――――”
“Cut that out! My name isn’t Harold.”
“Oh, all right. I couldn’t know, could I?” asked the other innocently.
“About the Eskimo Twins, though. It’s like this. You see, this is my
first visit to your big and wicked city and the fellows out home told
me I’d surely be spotted by the confidence men. Well, I’ve been in
New York since yesterday afternoon and not a blessed one of them’s
been near me. Made me feel downright lonesome, it did so! And when you
fellows came along I just naturally thought someone was going to take a
little notice of me at last. You didn’t look like con men, but they say
you can’t tell by appearances. Sorry I made the mistake, fellows. Dutch
Haskell――he’s Sheriff out in Windlass――got to talking with a couple of
nice-looking fellows in Chicago once and they invited him to go and see
the Eskimo Twins, and Dutch fell for it and it cost him four hundred
dollars. That’s why I mentioned the Twins. Wanted you fellows to know I
wasn’t as green as I looked, even if I did come from the innocent west.”
“That’s rot,” said Jimmy severely. “You didn’t mistake us for
confidence men. You only pretended to.”
Dud was secretly rather amused at Jimmy’s ruffled temper. This breezy
stranger was the first person Dud had ever seen who was capable of
causing Jimmy to forget his highly developed sense of humor.
“Well,” answered the boy in the opposite seat, smilingly, “I dare say
you are a little too young for a life of crime.”
“I guess we’re not much younger than you are,” replied Jimmy, with the
suggestion of a sneer.
“No, about the same age, probably. I’m sixteen and seven-eighths. Is
there a parlor car on this train?”
“Yes, it’s about two cars forward,” answered Dud.
“Oh, that’s why I didn’t see it. Back home we generally put them on the
rear of the train.”
“You can find it easily enough,” said Jimmy meaningly. “Don’t let us
keep you.”
The boy smiled amusedly. “Thanks, Harold, I won’t. But I guess――――”
Jimmy tried to stand up, but the confusion of legs and a sudden lurch
of the car defeated his purpose and his protest lost effect. “Cut that
out, Fresh!” he said angrily. “You do it just once more and I’ll punch
your head.”
“My, but you fellows in the East are a hair-trigger lot,” said the
other, shaking his head sadly. “Maybe you’d better tell me your name so
I won’t get in trouble. Mine’s Crail.”
“I don’t care what it is,” growled Jimmy, observing the other darkly.
“You’re too flip.”
The boy opposite raised a broad and capable-looking hand in front of
him and observed it sorrowfully. “Monty,” he said severely, “didn’t I
tell you before you left home you were to behave yourself? Didn’t I?”
The fingers crooked affirmatively. “Sure I did! I told you folks where
you were going mightn’t understand your playful ways, didn’t I?” Again
the fingers agreed, in unison. “Well, then, why don’t you act like
a gentleman? Want folks to think you aren’t more’n half broke?” The
fingers moved agitatedly from side to side. “You don’t?” The fingers
signaled “No!” earnestly. “Then you’d better behave yourself, Monty,”
concluded the boy sternly. “No sense in getting in wrong right from the
start. Going to be good now?” The fingers nodded vehemently, and the
boy took the offending right hand in his left and placed it in his
pocket. “We’ll see,” he said, with intense dignity.
By that time Dud was laughing and the corners of Jimmy’s mouth were
trembling. The stranger raised a pair of serious brown eyes to Jimmy as
he said gravely: “I have to be awfully strict with him.”
Jimmy’s mouth curved and a choking gurgle of laughter broke forth.
“Gee, you’re an awful fool, aren’t you?” he chuckled. “Where do you
come from?”
The boy brought the offending hand from the pocket and clasped it with
its fellow about one knee and leaned comfortably back. “Windlass City,
Wyoming, mostly,” he replied. “Sometimes I live in Terre Haute.”
“Where’s Terre Haute?” asked Dud.
“Indiana. Next door to Wyoming,” he answered unblinkingly.
“No, we know better than that,” laughed Dud. “Indiana’s just back of
Ohio, and Wyoming’s away out beyond Nebraska and Oklahoma and those
places. Do you live on a ranch?”
Crail shook his head. “No, there isn’t much ranching up our way. It’s
mostly mining. Snake River district, you know. Windlass City’s about a
hundred miles northwest of Lander. Know where the Tetons are? Or the
Gros Ventre Range? We’re in there, about ten miles from where Buffalo
Fork and Snake River join. Some country, Har――I mean friend.”
“Is it gold mining?” asked Jimmy interestedly.
“No, coal. That’s better than gold. There’s more of it.”
“And you live there, Creel?”
“Crail’s the name. Only in summer. I’ve been there pretty late, though.
Winters I go back east to Terre Haute. Last year I was at school,
though. Ever hear of Dunning Military Academy at Dunning, Indiana?”
The boys shook their heads.
“It’s not so worse, but they teach you so much soldiering that there
isn’t much time for anything else. And you have to live on schedule
all day long, and that gets tiresome. I kicked myself out last May.
Couldn’t stand it any longer.”
“Kicked yourself out?” echoed Dud questioningly.
“Yes, they wouldn’t do it so I had to. I tried about everything I could
think of, but the best they’d do was to put me in the jug and feed me
bread and water. I spent so much time in ‘solitary’ that I got so I
liked it. It gives you a fine chance to think, and I’m naturally of a
very thoughtful disposition. Say, I used to think perfectly wonderful
thoughts in the jug, thoughts that made a better boy of me!”
Jimmy grinned. “What did you do to get punished?” he asked with
lamentable eagerness.
“What little I could,” sighed Crail. “There wasn’t much a fellow could
do. You see, you’re dreadfully confined. The last time I set a bucket
of water outside the commandant’s door and rang the fire gong. He
came out in a hurry and didn’t see the bucket and put his foot in it.
He was awfully peeved about it. I told him he ought to blame his own
awkwardness.”
“And they fired you then?”
“Oh, no, they jugged me again. Six days that time. Six days is the
limit.”
“What did you do when they kicked you out?” asked Dud.
“They didn’t kick me out. I gave them all the chance in the world,
but they wouldn’t part with me. Stubborn lot of _hombres_. So I held
a court martial on myself one afternoon, found myself guilty of gross
disobedience and conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman and
sentenced myself to dishonorable discharge. Then I wrote down the
finding of the court, tucked it under the commandant’s door and mushed
out of there. They came after me but I doubled back, and swapped
clothes with a fellow I met on the road――he didn’t want to swap, but I
persuaded him to――and then walked back to Dunning and took a train for
home. Military academies are all right for some fellows, but they irk
me considerable.”
“Where are you going now?” asked Jimmy.
“School. I told Jasper――Jasper’s my guardian since dad died――that I
wanted to go to Mexico and be an army scout or something, and he said
an army scout ought to know a heap more than I did and he reckoned I’d
better find me a school and go to it. I thought maybe there was a heap
in what he said and decided I’d hike east here where learning comes
from. So here I am, Ha――fellows. I don’t know what sort of a place this
Mount Morris is, but I don’t have to stay if I don’t like it.”
“Mount Morris!” exclaimed Dud and Jimmy in one breath.
“Yes. Know it?”
They nodded.
“Aren’t going there yourselves, are you?” asked Crail.
Jimmy snorted with disgust. “I should say not! We’re Grafton fellows.”
“Are you? What’s Grafton, another school?”
“No, it’s not ‘another’ school,” replied Jimmy with great dignity.
“It’s _the_ school, the _only_ school.”
“Think of that! Then this place I’m going to doesn’t stack up very
high, eh?”
“Oh, Mount Morris is all right,” replied Jimmy, carelessly
condescending, “if you aren’t particular. A lot of fellows do go there.”
“Just like that, eh?” asked Crail, grinning. “Well, aside from that
it’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
“We naturally like Grafton a good deal better,” said Dud seriously.
“And I guess it really is better. But Mount Morris is good, too. That
is so, isn’t it, Jimmy?”
“Oh, it’s good enough, I suppose,” answered Jimmy without enthusiasm.
“We generally manage to beat it at about everything from chess to
football, and we have a lot more fellows, and better buildings and
better faculty, but it’s fair.”
“I savvy. This place you go to and Mount Morris are rivals, eh? Play
football together?”
“Sure.”
“And you fellows always win?”
“Well, not _always_,” granted Jimmy, “but pretty generally. We won last
year and――――”
“First call for dinner in the dining car!” announced a waiter, passing
through the car. “Three cars forward!”
“Me for that!” exclaimed Crail. “You fellows eating?”
“You bet! I’m starved. Hurry up before the seats are all gone.” Jimmy
struggled heroically and finally disentangled his legs and stood
up. “Get a move on, Dud! Maybe if we go now we can get three seats
together.”