OUTFITTING
“Andy! Andy! Come quick!” shouted Phil, as he leaped across the campfire
and ran to his brother. “Ted! Ted! Are you hurt? Speak to me!” he
implored, dropping to his knees beside the quiet form.
Fortunately the ponies, seeming to sense the fact that their danger was
over, became quieter, and hastily the agent made them fast to the
sapling, then rushed to the boy’s assistance.
“Jove! That was close work. He’s a monster. Did he tear Ted with his
claws?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t find any wounds.” By this time Andy himself
was kneeling beside the still motionless lad, swiftly running his hands
over his limbs to learn if any were broken.
“Thank goodness the bear didn’t cuff him with his paws. There isn’t a
mark on him. Bring the coffee-pot. I think he has only fainted.”
Quickly Phil did as he was bidden, and Andy raised Ted’s head, opened
his mouth, and poured a long draught of the strong black coffee down his
throat.
“Rub his hands!” he commanded.
The treatment, however, did not revive the young homesteader.
“Oh, Andy, do _something_!” pleaded Phil. “He isn’t d—”
But a vigorous sneeze by Ted stopped the dread word on his lips, for the
agent had struck a match and held the sulphurous fumes to the boy’s
nose.
“That’s the stuff!” cried Andy, in relief. “Another match and he’ll be
himself again.”
“Ugh! Stop sticking matches up my nose,” exclaimed Ted, sitting up.
Then, as he recognized his surroundings, he asked: “Did I get him?”
“You sure did, and he’s a monster,” returned the agent.
“He was just reaching for our bacon when I caught sight of him. I’d got
our rifles and was starting back when I heard a branch crack right
beside me, and there was Mister Bear, standing on his hind legs, clawing
at the bacon.
“I was so frightened, I just stood and shook. Then I let out a yell for
you fellows. The bear must have heard it, for he turned his head, then
rushed for me and I fired. But he kept on coming and I kept firing. The
last I remember, he seemed right on top of me. I’m sorry I fainted.”
“Never mind. There are not many men who would have been able to shoot at
all, seeing a bear so close and for the first time,” returned the agent.
“Let’s take a look at him,” suggested Phil, when his brother was on his
feet again. And quickly they reached the carcass.
While the young homesteaders pulled the long fur and examined the
terrible claws, Andy was searching to find where the bullets had hit.
“That was some shooting, Ted,” he finally announced; “five shots and
every one in the head.”
“Beats hitting a tin can, what?” said Phil.
“It certainly does, especially in the night, when it is always harder to
hit a mark because things look bigger.”
“Probably I couldn’t do it again.”
“You got him, though, and that’s what counts.”
“How much do you suppose he weighs?” asked Phil.
“Can’t tell exactly—about five hundred, I should think.”
“Guess I won’t have something to write home about, what?” cried Ted, and
again the boys examined the black monster until they were called away by
their companion.
“I don’t blame you for being proud of him. I had my first bear stuffed
and sent home. But we can’t stay here all night. We’ve got to move,”
cried Andy, who had been picking up their kits while the boys were
admiring the prize.
“Move, at this hour?” exclaimed Phil, in amazement. “We can’t leave our
hut.”
“That’s what. The horses are beginning to tread again, they smell the
blood, and they wouldn’t give us a minute’s rest all night. But we won’t
go far, just fifteen or twenty rods to leeward.”
Taking only the blankets, saddles, and firearms, they quickly found
another suitable place close at hand where the wind would blow the scent
away from them, and when they had lighted another fire they returned for
the horses, which they finally managed to lead around the bear.
After about an hour they had calmed their mounts, and again they rolled
up in their blankets, falling into a sleep from which nothing aroused
them.
“Get up, sleepyheads!” called Andy, as he set the coffee-pot on the
coals and made ready to fry some bacon.
Aroused, the boys sat up, only to sink back, groaning.
“I’m too stiff to move. How do you feel, Ted?” inquired his brother.
“The only thing I can do without its hurting is open my eyes.”
“Try opening your mouths for some of this coffee,” laughed their
companion, standing over them with the steaming pot, from which he
poured a few drops onto their necks.
“Hey, quit that! Ouch, don’t!” yelled the young homesteaders, leaping to
their feet under the smart of the hot liquid.
“Nothing like a shock to drive away the aches,” grinned Andy, and as the
boys remembered how quickly they had forgotten their complaints of the
moment before, they laughed with him.
“Go and rub down your ponies, that will take a few more kinks out of
you,” their companion ordered, yet before they had finished, he called
them to breakfast.
With a relish the boys ate.
“What’s to do first?” inquired Phil.
“Skin the bear,” returned Andy. “Then I’m going back to Chikau and you
can do what you please, but I should advise you to go to Bradley and get
your outfit. With proper tools you can begin work on your homestead in
earnest. You will only be wasting time trying to accomplish anything
with what you brought from Peleg’s.”
The thought of being left alone in a place so wild that bears roamed it,
sobered the young homesteaders instantly.
“Can’t you manage, _somehow_, to stay with us at least another day?”
pleaded Ted, his eyes wandering unconsciously to where the huge
fur-covered carcass lay.
“No, I can’t,” returned Andy, sharply. “You boys must start in on your
own resources sometime, so the sooner the better.”
“But you know so much about everything. We can learn more from you in a
day than by ourselves in a week,” flattered Phil.
“Now see here, none of that sort of talk.”
“But it’s true,” protested Ted.
“Perhaps it is. But I learned mostly by experience, and so must you. Did
you expect to have some one do the work for you when you left home?”
“No,” chorused both boys, stung by his tone.
“Then why should you change your minds just because you found me and was
good enough to take an interest in you and come over here with you?”
“You are right, Andy,” exclaimed Phil, after a short pause.
“That’s better. You boys have the stuff in you. The way you faced the
Black Swede and the bear proves that. You are educated, you have studied
upon farming and homesteading, and Ted, here, has at least mechanical
knowledge if not genius. Left to yourselves, you _ought_ to come out on
top—but you never will if you are going to rely on some one else to
solve all your difficulties.”
As they had finished breakfast while talking, without another word the
young homesteaders arose, picked up and washed the dishes, after which
they announced their readiness to go for their outfit.
Amused at their sudden independence, the agent asked:
“Don’t you want me to show you how to skin the bear?”
“I’ve read up on that,” returned Phil. “We can do it when we get back.”
“Undoubtedly. But while I am with you, I shall give you the benefit of
my experience,” smiled Andy. “If you don’t dress the bear before you
start, you will have trouble with the horses you are going to bring
back. They’ll be afraid. Come on, let’s see you skin the beast, Phil.”
Thus put on his mettle, the elder boy took his hunting-knife, whetted it
on his leather boots, went to the carcass, picked up one paw, inserted
the knife, and slit the skin to the body, repeating the operation on the
other three legs, then made a slit down the belly.
With now and then a word of direction, Andy watched, and soon the pelt
had been removed. This done, the agent showed the boys how to cut up the
meat and hang it on poles.
“You said we could outfit in Bradley, didn’t you, Andy?” asked Ted, when
the task was ended.
“I did.”
“How do we get there?”
“Follow the brook until you come to a road, then follow that until you
reach Bradley.”
“Thank you. When will you be over again?”
“As soon as I can. Come on, I’ll see you started.”
And when the ponies were saddled, the young homesteaders bade the agent
good-bye, shouting their thanks to him as they rode away.
With very little trouble they were able to keep along the brook,
reaching the road in due course, and noon found them riding down the
main, and only, street of Bradley.
A mushroom town built to cater to the desires of the lumberjacks from
three near-by camps, and the handful of settlers; there were more public
houses and dance halls than anything else, among which was tucked the
inevitable “general store,” and before this they drew rein.
Several loungers seated on the store porch sat up and took notice as the
boys made their ponies fast.
“Orphans’ home is first street to the left,” drawled one of them.
Phil flashed upon him what he intended to be a look of contempt.
“Look out, Bill, that’s young ‘Eat-em-alive,’” grinned another loafer,
rising and advancing toward the boys.
The proprietor of the store, however, had chanced to hear the loafers’
remarks, and, hurrying to learn their cause, arrived just as the young
homesteaders entered the door.
Struck by the clean-cut and manly appearance of the boys, he ordered the
bullies to be quiet, then asked:
“What can I do for you, gents?”
“We want a homesteader’s outfit,” replied Phil.
The words evoked loud guffaws from the loungers.
“For whom?” asked the store-keeper.
“Ourselves!” snapped Ted.
“Where have you filed?”
“Can’t we buy what we wish without giving our history?” demanded Phil.
“Say, do you think I’m letting an outfit go without knowing where it’s
going?” snorted the proprietor. “How could I collect?”
“We intend to pay cash,” announced Ted. This statement evoked even more
surprise from those who had heard it than anything that had happened
before, and the loungers commented freely upon it.
To the boys’ relief, however, it turned the store-keeper from a
“doubting Thomas” to an eager salesman. And straightway he bustled
about, dragging out plows, harrows, cultivators, chains, hoes, rakes,
and the many other things needed to work the ground and furnish the
cabin.
Determined not to be denied some fun from baiting the boys, the loungers
advised the purchase of all sorts of useless implements, drawing upon
their imaginations for instances when the possession of such and such a
tool would have spelled the difference between success and failure to
themselves or friends. But Phil and Ted paid them no more heed than as
if they had not been within a hundred miles.
Selecting only the best, the outfit was at last complete, even to the
seed, included in which Ted insisted upon having some “durum” wheat,
much to the amusement of the proprietor.
“How much do we owe you?” asked Ted, drawing out his pocket-book.
“Hundred and sixty-five dollars,” said the store-keeper, after adding up
the amounts.
“That means a hundred and forty-eight dollars and a half, allowing us
the usual discount for cash,” said Phil. “Pay him, Ted. Kindly give us a
receipt, please.”
Several times the proprietor opened his mouth to protest, but the sight
of the money in the younger boy’s hands and the chuckles of the loafers
caused him to shut it each time in silence, and, as though in a daze, he
passed over a receipt.
“How on earth are you going to get all these things home?” asked one of
the bullies. “You can’t load them on your ponies.”
“In a wagon, of course,” exclaimed Phil.
“But you haven’t any.”
“Not yet, but we’re going to buy one.” And he led the way from the
store, followed by the loungers, mounted, and rode up the street,
stopping at a big barn.
As the conclave halted, a loud voice called:
“Hey, Sam Turner, here are a couple of babies want a go-cart.”
The words brought the horse-dealer and hostlers to the door on the run.
Before any of them could speak, however, Phil said:
“We want to buy a pair of horses, a wagon, and harnesses.”
“Entrymen?” grinned the horse-dealer.
“We are,” smiled Phil.
“Where’s the claim?”
“We are friends of Si Hopkins,” declared Ted.
“Will he sign the mortgage?”
“We aren’t giving a mortgage—that is, how much do you want for the
horses and wagon, Mr. Turner?” asked the younger boy.
“H’m! Let me see. You’ll want time, of course, even if Si is back of
you. Money’s high now, so I ought to get four hundred and fifty dollars,
one hundred down, the balance fifty every three months.”
“We haven’t asked for time, sir,” exclaimed Phil curtly. “Come, Ted,
let’s see if we can’t get horses of some one who doesn’t charge three or
four prices.”
“If you knew Sam as well as I do, you wouldn’t mind his trying to be a
robber,” exclaimed a hanger on.
“We’ll give you just two hundred and seventy-five dollars in cash, Mr.
Turner. Take it or leave it.”
“Make it three hundred and you can take the team with you.”
“Two hundred and seventy-five, I said,” returned Phil.
“They’re yours, for cash.”
“Write out the receipt, then,” exclaimed the elder boy, and Ted again
counted out the money. “That only leaves us one hundred and fifteen
dollars until harvest time,” he said as the horse-dealer went away to
get the team. “Wouldn’t it be best to buy on time, after all?”
“No, it wouldn’t. Mr. Hopkins said that is the way so many settlers lose
out. These traders are sharpers, and if a man lacks five cents of the
amount for a payment, they’ll take everything away from him.”
As Turner exchanged the receipt for the money, the boys hurried to
inspect their latest purchases, and loud were they in their admiration
of the powerful blacks.
“Are they vicious?” inquired Phil, cautiously, visions of trouble in
harnessing and unharnessing such big creatures before his eyes.
“Gentle as lambs. Only thing you have to look out for is that they don’t
step on you.”
“Better let us hitch ’em, Mr. Turner,” said Ted. “We’ve got to learn how
sometime.” With a smile, the horse-dealer agreed; and he explained which
was the nigh and which the off horse, and showed them how to handle the
heavy harnesses.
Two or three trials, however, was necessary before the young
homesteaders could harness and hitch in properly. At last, with Daisy
and Pat on lead ropes, they drove from the barn and up to the store,
where their purchases were duly loaded into the stout farm wagon.
Several men were lounging about when Phil and Ted drove up, and they
commented freely upon the horses and the whole outfit, watching the boys
closely.
“Hope you need something more soon. I like cash customers,” smiled the
store-keeper, as he placed the last package on the wagon.
“Aren’t you going to eat before you start back?” asked Turner, who had
ridden up to look the boys’ equipment over.
“Can’t. We haven’t any money left,” laughed Phil.
“Then Sam and I will set up the dinners,” declared the store-keeper.
The boys, however, declined, and starting their blacks were soon out of
sight.