OSCAR TALKS TO THE COLONEL.
“What shall I do with the clothes?” continued Oscar. “Shall I bring them
to you, or would you rather go up to the sutler’s and pick them out for
yourself?”
“I’d rather you would bring them to me,” answered Tom, without looking
at his brother. “Bring them to the mouth of the ravine, and I will meet
you there—say in a couple of hours. You had better not come in here
again, for my partner is an odd sort of a fellow, and doesn’t like to
have any strangers about his camp. If I shouldn’t happen to be on hand
when you come back, don’t wait for me. Just hide the clothes in the
bushes at the foot of a big rock you will see there, and I’ll find them.
You will know what rock I mean when you see it, for there is a large oak
tree leaning over it. Good-by till I see you again.”
While Oscar was listening to what his brother had to say in regard to
the disposal of the clothing, something told him that Tom did not intend
to be at the place appointed to receive them.
Impressed with this idea, and believing that it would be a long time
before he would meet him again,—if, indeed, he ever met him,—he resolved
to extort from him a promise that he would not only withdraw from the
companionship of such men as the one he had seen in the sage-brush, but
that he would make an honest and persevering effort to refund the money
he had stolen, and regain a place among reputable people. But he did not
have time to say a word, for Tom’s good-by was an abrupt dismissal.
That he intended it should be taken as such was proved by his actions.
As soon as he ceased speaking, he caught up the axe and plunged into the
bushes.
“Don’t leave me in that way. I want to say something more to you,” cried
Oscar.
He listened intently for a reply, but the only one he received was the
echo of his own voice thrown back from the cliffs.
He called again, with no better success, and then, unhitching his pony,
he sprang upon his back, and slowly and sadly rode down the ravine.
He turned in his saddle occasionally, to run his eye over the thicket in
which Tom had disappeared; but he could see nothing of him, and finally
a sudden turn in the road shut the camp out from his view.
The exhilarating gallop Oscar had enjoyed on his new pony had done much
to cure his homesickness and banish the gloomy thoughts that had crowded
upon him when he saw Leon Parker setting out for the States; but the
events of the last half hour had brought them all back again.
He had never dreamed that he would stumble upon his brother in that
wilderness, or that he would ever see him in a condition so deplorable.
Tom’s ill-gotten gains, which he had expected would bring him so much
happiness, had brought him nothing but misery. He was thinly clad, his
pockets were empty, he had often gone hungry, and he was the companion
and associate of the lowest characters.
“His case certainly looks desperate,” thought Oscar, glancing at his
watch and putting his pony into a gallop, “and I am completely at my
wit’s end. I don’t know what to do, and I wish there was someone here to
whom I could go for advice. Tom will never be anything better than he is
while he remains with such fellows as that ‘partner’ of his, that’s
certain; but how shall I get him away from them? That’s the question
that troubles me.”
And we may add that it troubled him all the way to the fort; but just as
he was riding into the gate a thought passed through his mind, inducing
him to turn his pony toward the stable instead of toward the
hitching-post in front of the commandant’s head-quarters, as he had at
first intended to do. If anybody could help him it was the colonel.
He would not take the officer into his confidence, of course, but he
would question him in a roundabout way, and perhaps during the
conversation some hint would be dropped that would show him a way out of
his difficulty.
Leaving his pony in the stall that had been set apart for his use, Oscar
walked across the parade-ground and entered the hall leading to the
colonel’s quarters, the orderly, as before, opening the door for him. He
was glad to find that the officer was alone. He was engaged in writing,
but when Oscar came in he laid down his pen and greeted him with:
“Ah! you have turned up at last, have you? I have had an orderly looking
for you, thinking that perhaps you would like to take a short ride to
try your new horse.”
“I have just returned from a five-mile gallop,” answered Oscar, who
hoped that the colonel would not offer to accompany him when he left the
fort to carry the clothes to the ravine. “I am going to start right
back, and this time I shall take my gun with me. I saw some grouse and a
big jack-rabbit down there in the sage-brush.”
“Oh, you can find them any day if you keep your eyes open,” said the
colonel carelessly. “But I suppose you might as well begin to form your
collection one time as another. How does your pony suit?”
“Very well so far. He showed a disposition to be ugly at first, but I
had no trouble to bring him to his senses. By-the-way, I met a couple of
wolfers while I was gone.”
“Well, what did they steal from you?”
“Nothing, sir. The only thing I had with me that was worth stealing was
my pony. No doubt you will be surprised when I tell you that one of
these wolfers is an old acquaintance of mine.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed the colonel, who was indeed surprised.
“You beat anybody I ever heard of. How many more acquaintances are you
going to find while you are out here? Are you going to ship this fellow
off to the States, too?”
“No, sir; because he can’t very well—I mean he doesn’t want to go back
where he came from,” stammered Oscar, who was not a little confused when
he found that he had let out more than he had intended.
“_Ah!_” said the colonel in a very significant tone of voice. “It is a
wonder you met him at all, for these wolfers generally have good reasons
for keeping themselves hidden in the thickest part of the woods they can
find. If you have cause to dislike this man—whoever he is—you may have
the satisfaction of knowing that he can’t get any lower down in the
world—not by land, as some humorist remarks.”
“I have no cause to dislike him,” replied Oscar. “On the contrary, I
think a good deal of him; but I do not like the company he keeps. I met
his partner while I was riding through the sage-brush, and I must say
that he was the worst specimen of humanity that I ever looked at. He was
tall and raw-boned, with grizzly hair and whiskers, a pair of
wild-looking eyes——”
“And rode a little sorrel pony, with a sheepskin for a saddle,” added
the colonel. “That was Lish, the Wolfer. I know him. Where is he now?”
“In the village, probably. I judge so, from the fact that, when I met
him, he carried a couple of empty sacks across his pony’s neck. I
thought he was going after supplies.”
“Where did you find his companion?”
“In camp, on the banks of the brook that runs through the ravine,
about——”
“Orderly, tell Lieutenant Fitch I want to see him!” shouted the colonel.
Oscar was very much surprised at this unceremonious interruption, and he
was still more surprised, and not a little alarmed, besides, when the
lieutenant—who happened to be close at hand—entered the room in haste,
and was thus addressed by his superior:
“Mr. Fitch,” said the colonel, “Lish, the Wolfer, has been in Julesburg.
How long ago was it you met him?” he added, turning to Oscar.
“About two hours, I should say.”
“Well, he has had plenty of time to get drunk. Go and find him, Mr.
Fitch, and listen to what he has to say. When he is in his cups, he is
like an Indian in the war-dance—much given to boasting of his valorous
deeds. If he says anything relating to that affair of last summer, take
him into custody at once, and then go up and arrest his companion, whom
you will find on the banks of that little trout-stream we fished in last
summer. If one had a hand in it, the other did, too, and so we must pull
them both.”
Having received his instructions, the lieutenant hurried from the room,
while Oscar sank helplessly back in his chair, almost overcome with
bewilderment and alarm.
“Worse and worse,” he thought, when he had recovered himself so that he
could think at all. “Tom has been doing something else that renders him
liable to arrest. What will become of him?”
Then, seeing that the colonel’s eyes were fastened upon him with an
inquiring look, he called a sickly smile to his face, and asked, in a
voice that was strangely calm, considering the circumstances:
“Are the wolfers all bad men?”
“Oh, no. There are exceptions, of course; but take them as a class, they
are a desperate lot. I know of several men, two of whom I have in my
mind at this moment, who made their start in life as wolfers. One of
them is now a prosperous merchant in an Eastern city, and the other is
running an extensive cattle ranch in Texas. But they were careful of
their money, while the majority of those who follow that business
squander every cent they earn. They brave hunger, cold, and all sorts of
hardships for several months in the year, and devote the rest of their
time to getting rid of their money. They are held in supreme contempt by
all honest plainsmen, and this acquaintance of yours had better break
off associating with them before he gets himself into trouble, if he
hasn’t done so already. If he is going to be a wolfer, he had better
hunt alone than in the company of that miserable fellow he seems to have
chosen for a companion. No matter how much money he makes, Lish will
find means to obtain possession of the whole of it.”
“Do you think he will rob him?” exclaimed the boy.
“He is capable of anything,” was the colonel’s reply.
And it was accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders that spoke volumes
and excited a train of serious reflections in Oscar’s mind.