TOM ADMIRES THE COWBOYS.
Tom Mason slowly made his way back to Wolf River, the place where the
_Jennie June_ was discharging her cargo, locked his baggage in his state
room, and seated himself on the guard to watch the deck-hands and think
of Mr. Bolton, if that was his name. Several passengers got off at
Memphis, and several more got on to take their places, but from the time
the boat rounded to go up the Arkansas River there was no one who had
anything to say to him, if we except the clerk and the barber.
Tom thought he had never seen so lonely and desolate a country as that
through which the Arkansas flowed. Woods were to be seen in every
direction, and here and there a small clearing with a negro or two
scattered about to show that somebody lived there. The boat stopped a
few times to let off a passenger where there was not the sign of a fence
anywhere around, but she never got out a line for them. She awoke the
echoes far and near with her hoarse whistle, shoved out a gang-plank, a
couple of deck-hands ran ashore with the passenger's baggage, and then
she went on her way up the river. The town of Little Rock was situated
in the woods, and above that it was all wilderness until Fort Gibson was
reached. The _Jennie June_ did not tie up alongside the levee, but ran
on till she came to a little boat with steam up, the only boat there was
at the landing, and made fast alongside of her, keeping her wheels
moving all the while, so as not to pull her away from her moorings.
"Have I got to change to that thing?" said Tom.
"Yes, sir," replied the clerk, who hurried past him with a book in his
hands and a pencil behind his ear. "She's the only one who can go above
here at all. Plenty of room on her. I'll be ready to go with you in ten
minutes."
With his baggage between his feet Tom sat down to await the return of
the clerk, and to make a mental estimate of the vessel that was to take
him 150 miles further on his journey. He saw that she had no Texas on
board of her, her pilot-house being seated on the roof of the cabin. Her
engines were small, being no doubt reduced in weight to make her
carrying capacity equal to passing over the shoal places she would find
before her, her spars were ready for use, and she had no roof over her
main-deck. She could get along very well in dry weather, but what would
she do when a rain-storm came up? Tom noticed that a good portion of
baggage was laid out on the boiler deck, and no doubt some of the
passengers slept there; and consequently it would be a dangerous piece
of business for any of the wakeful parties to attempt to promenade the
main-deck with a cigar, as he had often seen done on the _Jennie June_.
"I hope we shall have pleasant weather all the way to Fort Hamilton,"
thought Tom, as he rested his elbows on the railing and proceeded to
size up the passengers. "I don't see how they can get all those men into
the cabin."
Almost the first thing Tom saw, curled up before some luggage they were
watching, were a couple of Indians, taking good care to keep out of the
way of the swiftly moving deck-hands. But Indians he could see any day
by simply riding into his uncle's woods; but who were those long-legged,
lank fellows who took just as much care of their rifles and knapsacks as
the Indians did? They were hunters, and Tom could not resist the
temptation to turn his eyes away from the fore-castle back to the
main-deck to take a second survey of the motley group of men he had seen
there. They were cowboys all of them, and their clothing, especially
their hats and boots, were as nearly perfect as money could buy. They
were all young fellows, from twenty to twenty-five years of age, and
wore their six-shooters strapped around them with as much ease as though
they had been born with them on. The hunters were a lazy set, and were
willing to work for the furs they captured, while the cowboys were
willing to work for a salary, and they earned every dollar of it, too.
"That's what I am going to be," thought Tom. "I'll have a horse and
lariat, and I'll soon learn to ride with the best of them. I don't see
what Mr. Bolton could have been thinking of when he bought me this
sheep's-gray suit. None of the cowboys has them on."
While Tom was busy in watching the cowboys and telling himself that
almost any one of them looked ready for a fight, the clerk came up, and,
following a motion of his hand, Tom stepped after him into the office.
He unlocked the safe and, taking out Tom's roll of money, handed it to
him, saying:
"I have spoken to the clerk about you, and he promises that he will give
you a nice room with a lower bunk. Good luck to you."
Tom immediately tore open the end of the envelope and began running his
fingers over the bills. He wanted to see if they were all there.
"I don't want anything," said the clerk. "I wouldn't take anything if
you were to offer it to me. Come on and let's go and see the clerk. I'm
awful busy when we are making a landing."
Tom at once picked up his valise and fell in behind the clerk, who led
the way on board the _Ivanhoe_. By dodging in the rear of some of the
deck-hands he managed to get on board without being knocked overboard,
and soon found himself standing beside a man who was shouting out some
orders to which nobody paid the least attention. He changed his pencil
from his hand into his mouth long enough to shake Tom by the hand.
"Go up on the boiler deck and set down there till I come," said he.
"I'll attend to your case in just no time at all."
Seeing that no one else paid any attention to him, Tom ascended the
stairs and entered the cabin. He wanted to see what sort of a looking
place it was, but almost recoiled when he opened the door, for it was
filled so full of stale tobacco smoke that he did not see how anybody
could live in it. But he knew that he would have to become accustomed to
that smell before he was on the prairie very long, so he kept on and
finally found a chair at the further end of the cabin. There was no one
near him except a man whose arms were outstretched on the table and his
face buried in his hands; and when Tom approached, he raised his head
and exhibited a countenance that was literally burning up with fever. He
was dressed like a cowboy, but there didn't seem to be anyone to attend
to his wants.
"I say," said he, in a faint voice, "I wish you would be good enough to
bring me a glass of water."
"Certainly I will," replied Tom, rising and placing his valise in the
chair.
He did not know where to go to get it, but as he turned into a little
gangway which he thought ought to lead to the galley he encountered a
darky, and to him he made known his wants--not for a glass, but for a
whole pitcher of ice-water. With these in his hand he went back to the
sick man, who, waving away the glass of water which Tom poured out for
him, seized the pitcher and drained it nearly dry. Then he set it down,
and with a sigh of relief settled back in his chair.
"I have been waiting for an hour for someone to hand me a drink of
water, but I didn't have strength enough to go after it," said he, with
a smile. "I knew where it was--well, it stayed there."
"Fever and ague?" said Tom.
"Buck ague," responded the man. "I always get it whenever I come to this
country."
"I should think you would keep away from it, then."
"Well, I had to come with a herd of cattle my employer was getting up
for the government, and that's the way I got it. Ah! here comes one of
those lazy kids that ought to have been here and tended to me," added
the man, as one of those handsome cowboys that Tom had noticed on the
main-deck rapidly approached the table. When he saw the pitcher of
ice-water, he stopped and gazed in consternation.
"Somebody's been fixing you!" said he. "He's been taking calomel," he
explained to Tom.
"He never said a word to me about it," faltered Tom, who thought he was
in a fair prospect of getting himself into trouble.
"You know the doctor said you must be careful not to drink any water
after taking that powder," continued the cowboy, looking at Tom as if he
had a mind to throw the pitcher at his head.
"The kid is all right," said the sick man, "and I'll stay by him. Now,
if you will go away and let me alone, I'll go to sleep."
He stretched himself out on the table once more, and the cowboy went off
to consult with his chum. In a few minutes he came back with him, and
all they could do was to try to arouse the man to ask him what he
thought they had better do for him; but to such interruptions he always
replied: "No, no, boys! I'm going to sleep now."
"You ought not to have given that man so much water," said one of the
cowboys. "But after all it's our own fault, Hank. One of us ought to
have stayed here with him."
Tom Mason did not know what to say, and neither was he able to account
for so much forbearance on the part of the cowboys. He looked to see
them pull their revolvers; but instead of doing that they drew chairs up
beside their sick comrade and waited to see what was going to happen to
him, and Tom, filled with remorse, went out on the boiler-deck. Just
then the _Jennie June's_ bell rang, the lines and gang-planks were
hauled in, and she backed down the river to her moorings. Then the
_Ivanhoe's_ bell was struck, and instantly a great hubbub arose among
the passengers. Hands were shaken, farewells were said, and in ten
minutes more the little boat was ploughing her way up the river. Tom had
an opportunity to sit down after that. He pulled a chair up to the
railing and sat there for ten minutes awaiting the arrival of the clerk,
and wondering how calomel would operate on that man after he had drank
ice-water on top of it; and consequently he did not feel very safe when
he saw the two cowboys approaching him. He had left them to watch over
the sick man, and he did not like to have them follow him up.
"Look here, pard," said the foremost. "You've got the only lower bunk
there is in the cabin, and we want to see if you won't give it up to
that sick boss of ours. The man now occupying the upper bunk has offered
to give it up, but we don't want it."
"You can have it and welcome," said Tom. "I assure you that my giving
him a drink was all a mistake. I offered him a glass of water, but he
wouldn't take it."
Having given up his bed, Tom considered that he had done all that a boy
could do to make amends for what he had done. He gave the clerk his
money to lock in the safe, and when night came found a pallet made up
for him in a remote corner of the cabin. All the report he could get
regarding the sick man was that he was sleeping soundly, and had fought
his attendants so hard that it was all they could do to take his clothes
off.
"I really believe he is coming around all right," said one of the
cowboys. "When he gets mad and reaches for his revolver, it's a mighty
good sign."
"Did he draw it on either of you?" asked Tom, in alarm.
"Oh, no; for we took good pains to keep it out of his way."
When Tom got up the next morning (there was no barber shop on this boat,
and so he had to comb his hair in the wash-room), and went out on the
boiler-deck to get his breath of fresh air, he found three men out there
sitting in their chairs, and paying no heed to the cold wind that was
blowing. The men who slept there had gone into a warmer climate, down in
the neighborhood of the boilers, but their baggage was scattered around
just as they had left it. Tom took just one look around, and, seeing how
desolate things were, was about to retreat to the cabin, when one of the
men happened to spy him.
"My gracious, there's my doctor!" said he cheerfully. "Come here, old
man, and give us your flipper."
"Why, I didn't expect to find you out here to-day," said Tom, walking up
and taking the outstretched hand of his sick man. "My medicine did you
some good, didn't it? But you ought not to sit out here without
something around you. You will take cold."
The sick man laughed heartily.
"Why, doctor, I am as sound as a dollar. That water you gave me hit the
spot, for it set me to perspiring like a trip-hammer. I knew I was all
right as soon as I could sleep. Draw a chair up and sit down. You won't
take cold while you have that overcoat on."
Tom drew a chair up alongside the sick man, one of the cowboys moving
aside to make room for him, and deposited his feet on the railing. The
wind cut severely, and he would have felt a good deal more cheerful
beside the cabin fire.
"Where be you a-travelling to, doctor?" said the sick man; for Tom
didn't know what else to call him. "If you are going out our way, we may
be able to be of some use to you."
"I am going to Fort Hamilton," said Tom. "How much farther I don't know
until I have seen Black Dan."
It was curious what a sensation that name occasioned in that little
company. They simply looked at each other and smiled, and then settled
down and sought new places for their feet on the railing. It was evident
that they took Black Dan for a relative of his.
"Have you got much to do with him?" asked one of the cowboys.
"I never saw him," Tom hastened to say. "I got his name from a Mr.
Bolton, who gave me a very valuable pin to return to him. He got into a
fight once and had some diamonds torn out of it."
"Yes, Dan has been in a good many fights," said the sick man. "He aint
the fellow he used to be."
"I--I hope he didn't get the worst of any of them."
"Well--yes. He rather got the worst of the last fight he was in. He got
into a row with three fellows,--cowboys, I knew them well,--and although
he managed to get away with all of them, one shot him through the arm
above the elbow, and it had to be taken off."
"Amputated?" said Tom.
"Yes, I suppose that's what you call it. Then Dan took to drink and lost
everything he had."
"Why should the loss of his arm send him to drink?"
"He couldn't shuffle the cards any more. He doesn't do anything now but
get drunk in the morning and then crawl into some hole and sleep it off;
and he has seen the time when he was worth a million."
Tom Mason was sorry to hear all this. He did not know what he was going
to do now that Black Dan was in no condition to help him. Who was he
going to get to grub-stake him and send him into the mountains to find a
gold mine? He knew that things were pretty high in Fort Hamilton, and
his two hundred dollars would not last him a great while.
"For a fellow who has never seen Black Dan you appear to take his
downfall very much to heart," said the sick man.
"Yes, I do. I was depending on him to see me through. I have a very nice
pin which is his own private property, and which I have been
commissioned to give into his keeping."
"Have you got it with you?"
Tom replied that the pin was in his baggage, and arose and went after
it. In a few minutes he returned with it in his hand, and was not a
little surprised at the exclamations of astonishment that arose from his
three friends when they handled the ornament, and passed it from one to
the other and speculated upon its merits.
"Five hundred dollars!" said "Boss" Kelley, who by virtue of his
position took it upon himself to act as judge when matters came before
them that were somewhat hard to be decided. Tom had noticed one thing:
that his word was law to the two cowboys, and that when he spoke the
other two remained silent. "That's a heap of money to go into Dan's
hands. How long do you suppose it will last him?"
"Until he can get to Cale's bar," said Hank Monroe.
"And no longer," chimed in Frank Stanley.
"It's his and he ought to have it, if we can find him when he is sober,"
said Kelley. "Now, doctor, how came you by it in the first place?"
"I am plain Tom Mason, and I don't like to answer to any other name,"
said the latter; and with the words he settled back in his chair and
told the history of his meeting with Mr. Bolton. He kept back nothing.
He knew he could tell it just as it happened, for these men had more or
less to do with gamblers, and knew the motives which influenced them.
When he got through, he found that he had them very much interested.
"Why, you haven't done anything," said Stanley. "Go home and tell your
uncle just what you have told us, and take the racket."
"Boys, I know my uncle," said Tom, shaking his head.
"Perhaps he had better go on," said Kelley. "His uncle will throw things
at him whenever he gets mad, and it's better to go away and let him get
over that. Now, Tom, if you are willing to take help from us----"
"I am willing to take help from anybody," said Tom. "I am a stranger in
a strange place, and don't know what move to make first."
"Very good," said Kelley, extending his hand to be shaken by Tom, a
proceeding in which he was imitated by both his friends. "That is a
cowboy's grip, and whenever you get it out here, you may know that you
are among friends. Tom is one of our party now."
Tom Mason told himself that never had a runaway been blessed with such
luck. No sooner did one man on whom he was depending for assistance turn
out to be unreliable than another one came to take his place. For once
he had forgotten himself and told the truth, and the truth was mighty
and would prevail. After that he had nothing to do during the rest of
his trip but sit alongside one of his companions and talk of
cattle-herding and speculate concerning the future of Black Dan. All he
could learn regarding the latter was that he was going to the bad as
rapidly as he could.
"All gamblers come to that sooner or later," said Kelley. "All the money
I have got was made honestly. I don't know one card from another."
All this was very encouraging. If a man of Kelley's stamp--Tom knew he
was well off, for he had heard him talk of the thousand head of cattle
which he was holding fast to until the government came up to his
price--could live all these years on the prairie and never learn one
card from another, it was certain that another might do so.
At last, after innumerable discouragements, during which her spars had
been used until they were all mud, and it seemed impossible for her to
proceed a foot farther, the _Ivanhoe_ whistled for Fort Hamilton. Then
Tom saw what had given it that name. A short distance above the little
circle of houses that always spring up around a fortification, crowning
a hill, was a stockade from which floated the Stars and Stripes, and
among the crowd of loungers who assembled to see the boat come in were
several men dressed in the uniform of the army.
As soon as the landing was made Tom went to the clerk to get the money
he had locked in the safe, and made his way down the stairs to find
Kelley and Stanley waiting for him. They all had horses, with their
extra wardrobe tied up in ponchos behind their saddles, but they had
given them over to one of their number with orders to take them to the
Eldorado, the hotel which all the best men in that country patronized.
"Now, we want to find out what's left of Black Dan," said Kelley. "I
think we will get on his trail somewhere up here."