THE TRIP TO ST. LOUIS.
“Well, Thompson, what do think of the situation?” asked Carl, after
waiting for some time to hear what the foreman had on his mind.
“I hain’t got nothing to wear,” said Thompson.
“You have as much as I have,” replied Carl.
“Everybody will look at us as we go tramping along the streets, and
they will think we came from the hills, sure enough.”
“Well, you do, don’t you?” said Carl with a smile. “They looked at me
the same way too, when I first went there, but I didn’t care for that.
We will stay there one night and come away the next day. You can surely
stand it that long.”
Yes, Thompson thought that he could do that, and adjourned to his own
room to give his clothes the needed brushing. They would do well enough
out there where everybody wore clothing of the same description, but
he did not know how they would look in a place containing so large a
population as St. Louis. He concluded that everything would pass muster
except his _chaparejos_, his cowboy’s riding-pants, which he thought
were a little too well-worn to pass muster anywhere. But then he could
exchange with one of the new men whom Mr. Preston had hired a short
time before his death.
“I declare, they look shabby,” said the foreman, standing off with
his brush and giving his clothes a good looking over. “Well, I would
like to see anybody who has been out here as long as I have, go there
looking any better. If it were not for such fellows as me, some of them
would go hungry for their beef.”
Claude came in shortly after that and began to pack his trunk. Now,
that trunk was the source of a great deal of annoyance to Carl. If
it had not been for that they could have gone on horseback, and thus
completed their journey in half the time. As it was, they were obliged
to take a wagon with them, and that would delay them just four days.
“At any rate I shall see the last of you,” soliloquized Carl, as he
passed along the hall and saw Claude at work with his trunk. “I wish
you had never come here. I know Thompson will be glad that you are
gone.”
It must not be supposed that Carl really disliked his cousin, for he
did not; but at the same time candor compelled him to say that affairs
about the ranch did not move as smoothly as they did before he came
there. He seemed to possess the faculty of getting the cowboys into
a turmoil. Every little thing that was said out on the range went
straight to his father’s ears, until Mr. Preston told him that his
cowboys satisfied him, and he didn’t want to have any more stories
brought to him. Thompson was the one who had the most fault to find
with him. If he started him off to find certain cattle that had strayed
off the range, he would perhaps find him, in an hour or two, miles away
from his post, stretched out beneath the shade of a tree and taking
matters easy. At such a time Thompson always gave him the full benefit
of his tongue, and it seemed to be hung in the middle, so that he could
keep both ends of it clattering at once.
“There is one thing that I forgot to speak to you about,” said Carl,
going into Thompson’s room. “Do you suppose that father ever said a
word about my taking Claude into partnership with me?”
Thompson looked at Carl, and then backed toward the nearest chair and
dropped into it.
“Claude told me of that this morning,” continued Carl. “He says he
don’t know what he shall do to support himself if I let him go home.”
“How much money has he got coming to him?” asked Thompson.
“Counting in the thousand, he has fifteen hundred dollars. At any rate,
that is what I shall pay him.”
“He can certainly get something to do before that is gone. If he can’t,
he ought to go hungry.”
“That is what I told him. Do you suppose father said a word to him
about going into partnership with me?”
“No,” said Thompson emphatically. “I will tell you what is a fact,
Carl. I love the ranch, I love every horse and cow on it, but if you
take that man into business with you, you can get another foreman.”
“You need not worry yourself. I have no intention of doing it.”
The next morning the cowboys were all up at four o’clock to see the
journey begun. If good wishes could have anything to do with them,
they would certainly get back in as fine order as they were when they
started. Claude’s trunk had been thrown into the wagon without much
regard to consequences, much to that young gentleman’s disgust, and in
ten minutes more the ranch was out of sight. They stopped that night
at the fort, and if we were to say that everybody was glad to see Carl
we should be touching the matter very lightly. Everybody had something
to say about the loss of his father, and the kind words brought tears
to Carl’s eyes. He got away from the officers and went to see the
commandant of the fort. He wanted to get a position for himself as bad
as Claude did. The colonel just listened to him until he found out what
he had come there for, and then got up and shook him by the hand.
“Of course I have got a position for you,” said he. “You want to hurry
back from St. Louis and get here as soon as possible. I will have
business for you every day.”
Thompson was not at all pleased to hear this. Of course he would be
given charge of the ranch during his employer’s absence, but that did
not suit him. He wanted Carl around so that he could take orders from
him, and the place would be lonely without him. Claude, too, looked
glum when he heard of it.
“You seem to find something to do without going out of your own
country,” said he with evident disgust, “and I have got to go to St.
Louis, and probably will not find anything there to suit me.”
Carl did not know what reply to make to this, so he said nothing. The
next day they started on again, and in four days arrived at Standing
Rock Agency. They made arrangements with the teamsters to keep their
mules until they came back, and then Carl found the quartermaster, of
whom they obtained a permit to go down to Fort Scully on his boat. It
was a small boat, built to run when the water in the river was shallow,
and the time they had in getting down to their journey’s end filled
Carl with impatience. There seemed to be a bar in every bend, and the
boat was kept busy “sparring off” to enable her to continue on her way;
but at length Fort Scully was sighted and the boat made her landing.
“I don’t expect we will be here when you come back,” said the captain,
to whom Carl had gone for some information on the subject. “We shall
probably be up at Standing Rock Agency; but if we are not here, you can
wait.”
This was bad news for Carl, who wanted to get through with the trip
and get back to his ranch without loss of time. He found another
boat that was going to St. Louis, and on her he took passage, and
after a pleasant journey—there was not as much “sparring off” to do
on this boat as there was on the quartermaster’s—they reached their
destination. Thompson now had some fault to find with the men, and
women, too, whom he met on this journey. A good many of them gazed in
surprise at his long hair, his wide sombrero and the clothing he wore,
and he came to Carl and complained about it.
“I told you just how it would be,” said he. “The folks all think I
don’t belong here.”
“Do just as I do; pay no attention to them,” said Carl. “You have only
got to stand it for a little while. We will soon be on our way back
again.”
One morning when Carl awoke and raised himself on his elbow he found
that the boat was tied up to the levee. He arose and went to the
door, and could see nothing but boats on either side of him. Thompson
slept in the bunk above him, and it was the work of but a few minutes
to arouse him. Claude, we ought to say, did not approve of this
arrangement at all. He thought he ought to occupy the same state-room
with his cousin, but he was put into a room with an entire stranger. He
first muttered gloomy threats over it, and then tried to think up the
men he would get to assist him in waylaying Carl and getting his ten
thousand dollars out of him.
“You think you are bothering me by paying so much attention to that
miserable foreman,” said he. “Wait till we get to the city and you are
given charge of that money. If Thompson is not afraid to shoot, I will
get somebody who isn’t afraid either.”
“Thompson, wake up!” said Carl, when he had satisfied himself that he
was at his journey’s end. “This boat got here and we never knew it.
Now, we will stay on board and get our breakfast, and in the meantime I
will see the captain and find out at what hour this boat will start up
the river again. When nine o’clock comes we’ll go up to the bank.”
“Here you are,” exclaimed Claude, as they opened the door and stepped
into the cabin. “You come with me, and I will take you where you can
get a breakfast that will do you good. I am tired of living on these
steamboats.”
“Where is the captain?” asked Carl. “Have you seen him?”
“He is around here somewhere. What do you want to see him for?”
“We want to find out when this boat is going to start again.”
“Are you going back so soon?” inquired Claude. “Why, you haven’t seen
any fun at all. You want to go to the theatre——”
“We did not come out to see fun on this trip,” said Carl. “We came out
on business; and when that is done we are going back.”
“Well, that is no way to do,” said Claude, somewhat alarmed. He wanted
to see two of his boon companions by the time that Carl thought of
going back, and if he was going to start up the river that night or
to-morrow morning, he would be pressed for time. “You showed me all
there was to be seen about your ranch, and you must let me do the same.
I am acquainted here in St. Louis——”
“There’s the captain now,” interrupted Carl. “Come on, Thompson. Let us
go and see him.”
Claude was angry, as he always was whenever he had anything important
to say to his cousin, and stood there and watched them while they
hurried forward to interview the captain. Carl made known his wants in
a few words, and the skipper said:
“We shall start out to-morrow night, if we can get loaded. Is there
any boat that will start before this one? I don’t know, but you can
look around and see. If you don’t find any, come aboard of us.”
Claude loafed about just long enough to hear the captain say this, and
then turned and walked out on the guards.
“If I only had my money in my pockets I would go and hunt up those
men the first thing I do,” said he. “It is ‘Thompson, do this,’ or
‘Thompson, do that,’ and ‘Claude, you can go to smash,’ until I have
grown sick and tired of hearing it. I bet you that I will get the start
of them yet.”
It was a long time before breakfast was ready, and Claude remained
alone on the guards, as Carl and Thompson were perfectly willing he
should do. They were sitting on the forward part of the boiler deck
engaged in conversation, and when the breakfast-bell rang they went
into the cabin. Only once during the meal hour did Carl address his
cousin, and then it was to the effect that they would go up town as
soon as the bank opened, and he would be glad to have his cousin go
with him.
“Mr. Morphy will give you your own money with his own hands, and then
you will know that you have got it right,” said he in conclusion. “He
will give you fifteen hundred dollars.”
“And that is three thousand less than I deserve,” said Claude to
himself. “If anybody would lay their plans to rob your safe I would not
tell you of it.”
After breakfast there came two hours of loafing around with nothing to
do, and Carl grew very weary over it. Thompson was looking for somebody
to make fun of his clothes, and every time some one passed him and
turned to take a second look the foreman would gaze angrily at them and
slip his hand into the inside pocket of his coat. Carl saw it, and it
was all he could do to keep from laughing in Thompson’s face; but at
length the hands on his watch told him that the hour had come, and he
jumped up, uttering the order he had so long been used to—
“Catch up!”