The Ranch in the Rockies
With a great roar and rattle and clangor of bells, the train drew up at
the little station where the boys were to descend. Their long rail
journey of nearly three thousand miles was over, but they still had a
forty-mile drive before they would reach the ranch.
For a half hour previous they had been gathering their traps together and
saying good-by to their friends on the train. These last included all of
the travelers, who, since the capture of the robbers, had insisted on
making heroes of the boys. In vain they had protested that the thanks
were out of all proportion to the service rendered. The passengers
themselves knew better. And it was amid a chorus of the friendliest
farewells and good wishes that they had stepped to the rude platform of
the station.
"Not much of a metropolis about this," said Tom as they looked around.
"Hardly," agreed Dick. "The principal thing here is space. You can cross
the street without the help of a traffic cop."
"And only one street to cross, at that," added Bert.
It was the typical small town of the Western plains. The one crooked
street parallel with the track stretched on either side of the station
for perhaps half a mile, lined with houses at irregular intervals. There
was no pretence of a sidewalk and even fences were conspicuous by their
absence. The business part of the town consisted of a general store that
served also as a post office, a blacksmith shop and three saloons, to one
of which a dance hall was attached. Business seemed brisk in these,
judging from the many mustangs that were tied to rails outside, patiently
waiting for their masters who were "tanking up" within and accumulating
their daily quota of "nose paint." A Mexican in a tattered serape was
sitting on the steps of the store rolling a cigarette, while an Indian,
huddled in a greasy blanket and evidently much the worse for fire water,
sat crouched against the shack that served as baggage-room at the left
end of the station.
Down the platform came hustling a big burly form that they recognized in
an instant.
"Mr. Melton," they cried in chorus as they rushed with extended hands to
meet him.
"Sure thing," he responded, his face beaming with delight at their hearty
greeting. "Did you think I'd send one of my men to meet you? Not on your
life. Nothing less than a broken leg would have kept me from coming to
give you the first welcome to old Montana. Came down yesterday so that
the horses could have a good rest before starting back again. Come right
along now and tumble into the buckboard. One of my men will look after
your duds and bring them along later."
All talking at once, they came to the farther end of the platform, where
a big mountain wagon was waiting. It was drawn by a pair of wiry mustangs
that champed impatiently at the bit.
"Not very pretty to look at," said Melton, "but they're holy terrors when
it comes to traveling. Jump in."
They all piled in and Melton gathered up the reins. He chirped to the
horses and they started off at a rate that justified all he had said as
to their speed. But he held them in check and subdued them to a trot
that, while moderate in appearance, ate up the miles amazingly.
"Pure grit and iron, those little sinners," he commented. "But they've
got a long way to go, and we're sure even at this rate to get home in
plenty of time for supper. Now, tell me all about yourselves."
Which they proceeded to do in detail, not neglecting the attempted
hold-up on the train. He listened with the keenest interest.
"So you got the best of 'Red' Thompson and 'Shag' Leary," he exclaimed in
astonishment. "The toughest nuts we've had to crack in this section for
years. A good many people will breathe easier now that they're trapped.
They're 'bad men' through and through, and if their pistol butts had a
notch on them for every man they've killed, they'd look like saws. And
with nothing but a paperweight and bare fists," he chuckled. "They sure
must feel sore. What was done with them?"
"Oh, the conductor handed them over to the sheriff at one of the
stations," answered Bert. "I suppose they'll be tried before long."
"Maybe," said Melton a little dubiously. "My own private hunch, though,
is that Judge Lynch will invite them to a little necktie party. They've
lived a heap sight too long already, and there won't be much formality
wasted on them.
"You boys sure have the nerve," he went on. "You got away with it all
right, but you took an awful chance."
"Yes," quoted Dick:
'An inch to the left or an inch to the right,
And we wouldn't be maundering here to-night.'"
"Those born to be hung will never be shot," laughed Tom. "I guess that
explains our escape so far."
"It beats the Dutch the faculty you fellows have of getting into scrapes
and out again," commented Melton. "I believe you'd smell a scrap a mile
away. You'd rather fight than eat."
"You won't think so when you see what we'll do to that supper of yours
to-night," retorted Tom. "Gee, but this air does give you an appetite."
"The one thing above all others that Tom doesn't need," chaffed Dick.
"But he's right, just the same. The way I feel I could make a wolf look
like thirty cents."
"You can't scare me with that kind of talk," challenged Melton. "Let out
your belts to the last notch and I'll guarantee they'll be tight when you
get up from the table."
"That listens good," said Tom. "I'm perfectly willing you should call my
bluff."
With jest and laughter the afternoon wore on and the shadows cast by the
declining sun began to lengthen. After their long confinement on the
train, the boys felt as though they had been released from prison. They
had been so accustomed to a free, unfettered life that they had chafed at
the three days' detention, where the only chance they had to stretch
their limbs had been afforded by the few minutes wait at stations. Now
they enjoyed to the full the sense of release that came to them in their
new surroundings. The West, as seen from a car window, was a vastly
different thing when viewed from the seat of a buckboard going at a
spanking gait over the limitless plains.
For that they were limitless was the impression conveyed by the unbroken
skyline that seemed to be a thousand miles away. Only in the northwest
did mountains loom. They had never before had such an impression of the
immensity of space. It seemed as though the whole expanse had been
created for them, and them alone. For many miles they saw no human figure
except that of a solitary cowboy, who passed them at a gallop on his way
to the town. The country was slightly rolling and richly grassed,
affording pasturage for thousands of cattle that roamed over it at will,
almost as free as though in a wild state, except at the time of the
round-up. They crossed numerous small rivers, none so deep that they
could not be forded, although in one case the water flowed over the body
of the wagon.
"That's the Little Big Horn River," said Melton as they drew out on the
other side. "Perhaps you fellows remember something that happened here a
good many years ago."
"What," cried Bert. "You don't mean the Custer Massacre?"
"That's what," returned Melton. "Right over there where the river bends
was the place where Sitting Bull was encamped when Custer led the charge
on that June morning. I've got to breathe the horses for twenty minutes
or so, and, if you like, we'll look over the field."
If they would like! The boys thrilled at the thought. They had read again
and again of that gallant and hopeless fight, where a thousand American
cavalrymen led by Custer, the idol of the army, had attacked nine
thousand Indians, and fighting against these fearful odds had been wiped
out to the last man. In all the nation's history no one, except perhaps
Phil Sheridan and Stonewall Jackson, had so appealed to the imagination
of the country's youth as Custer, the reckless, yellow-haired leader in
a hundred fights, the hero of Cedar Creek and Waynesboro and Five Forks,
the Chevalier Bayard of modern times, "without fear and without
reproach," who met his death at last as he would have wished to meet it,
in that mad glorious dash that has made his name immortal, going down as
he had lived with his face to the foe. To these ardent young patriots the
place was holy ground, and their pulses leaped and their hearts swelled
as Melton pointed out the features of the field and narrated some of the
incidents of that awful, but magnificent, fight. It was with intense
reluctance that, warned by the gathering shadows, they tore themselves
away.
"Can't wait any longer now," said Melton as they retraced their steps to
the place where the horses were browsing; "but some day soon we'll come
down here early and spend the whole day. It won't be any too long to get
a clear idea of the fight and all that led up to it."
The mustangs, refreshed by the rest, and feeling too that they were on
the last stretch of their journey, needed no urging, and Melton gave them
their head.
"Must be pretty near your place now, I suppose," said Tom.
"Well, yes," answered Melton, with a twinkle in his eyes; "been traveling
on my lands for the last eight miles. House not more than five miles
ahead."
The boys gasped. It was something new to them to hear one speak as
carelessly of miles as a farmer back East would speak of acres. Now they
were getting some idea of what was meant when one spoke of the "boundless
West."
"Got to have room to stretch my arms without hitting anything," went on
Melton. "Of course, I don't use much of it for farming. Just raise enough
to take care of the table and the stock. But for grazing there ain't any
better pasture for cattle in the whole State of Montana."
"Then all the cattle we've seen grazing by thousands for the last few
miles belong to you?" asked Dick, as soon as he had recovered from his
surprise.
"Sure thing," returned their host, "and they're only a few of them. It
would take a cowboy the better part of a day to start at one end of the
ranch and circle around it. And there's plenty of ranches in the State
bigger than mine."
Now the going was steadily uphill and the horses subsided to a walk. They
were in the foothills of the Rockies. In the gathering dusk they could
see ahead of them the mighty peaks in the background rising to a height
of many thousand feet. Higher and higher they went, until they were as
much as six hundred feet above sea level. If they had had no other proof
they would have found it in the increasing rarity of the air and the
slightly greater difficulty in breathing.
"You'll soon get used to that," said Melton. "After a day or two you
won't notice any difference. I could of course have built on a lower
level, and in some ways that would have been an advantage. But when I
settled here I made up my mind that I wanted air that was washed clean
by the mountain breezes, and I planted my stakes according."
Soon they reached a broad, level plateau, and, a little way off, could
see the lights coming from a low-lying group of buildings. Several dogs
came rushing down with barks of welcome, and a couple of men lounging
near one of the corrals removed the bars of a huge gate, from which the
path led up to the largest of the buildings. It was a rambling structure
only two stories in height, but covering a vast extent of ground and
suggestive of homely comfort and hospitality. A broad veranda extended
along three sides of the house, and in front a well-kept flower garden
bordered the path that led to the door.
As they approached, heralded by the noisy greeting of the dogs, the door
was thrown wide open and Mrs. Melton appeared in the flood of light that
streamed from within.
She was a pleasant-faced, motherly-looking woman, and she welcomed the
boys with open arms. There was no mistaking the warmth and sincerity of
her greeting. They felt at home at once and in a few minutes were
chatting and laughing as easily as though they had known her for years.
Perhaps the memory of her own two boys, dead long since, but who would
have been just about the age of the newcomers had they lived, added to
the hearty cordiality with which she took them under her wing.
"We oughtn't to need any introduction at all," she beamed, "because Mr.
Melton has done nothing but talk about you ever since he came back from
that last trip to Mexico. I wouldn't dare to tell you all he said, for
fear of making you conceited. I really think the last trip he made East
was more to see you than anything else. He said he was going on business,
but I have my own opinion about that."
"Well, if it hadn't been for him we wouldn't have been there to see,"
said Bert warmly. "The vultures would have had us long ago, if he hadn't
risked his own life to help us out of trouble."
"Nothing at all, nothing at all," deprecated Melton. "You gave me a
chance for a lovely scrap, just when I was beginning to wonder whether
I'd forgotten how to fight. I've felt ten years younger ever since."
"You don't need to get any younger," retorted his wife in affectionate
reproach. "You're just as much of a boy as you ever were. I declare," she
laughed, turning to her guests; "I ought to call him Peter Pan. He'll
never grow up."
"Well, he's a pretty husky youngster," grinned Tom, looking admiringly at
his host's two hundred and forty pounds of bone and muscle.
But now Mrs. Melton's housewifely instincts asserted themselves, and she
shooed the boys off to their rooms to rid themselves of the dust of the
journey, while she bustled round to get supper on the table.
A few minutes later and they were gathered at supper in the
brightly-lighted, well-furnished dining-room of the ranch. It was a jolly
party, where every one radiated happiness and good nature. There was not
a particle of stiffness or pretence in that wholesome environment. The
delight of their hosts in having them there found an echo in the hearts
of the boys, and they were soon on as genial and friendly a footing as
though they had known them all their lives.
And that supper! To the hungry boys, with their naturally keen appetites
still further sharpened by the long ride, it seemed a feast fit for the
Gods. The table fairly groaned beneath the weight of good things placed
upon it. Crisp trout freshly taken from the mountain brook, a delicious
roast flanked by snowy mounds of potatoes and vegetables just plucked
from the garden patch, luscious berries warm with the sun, deluged with
rich cream, and pastries "such as mother used to make" offered a
challenge to the boys that they gleefully accepted. They ate like
famished wolves, while Mrs. Melton bridled with pride at the tribute paid
to her cooking; and, when at last they had fairly cleared the board, they
sat back with a sigh of content at duty well performed.
"How about those belts?" laughed Melton, as he lighted his pipe.
"Tight as a drum," Tom answered for all. "You called my bluff, all
right."
"Sallie certainly knows how to cook," said Mr. Melton, patting his wife's
hand.
"You mustn't give me all the credit," smiled Mrs. Melton, smoothing out
her apron. "That Chinese cook you brought back with you the last time you
went to Helena is certainly a treasure. I don't know how I'd get along
now without him."
"That reminds me," said Melton, with a quick glance at his wife. "Just
send him in here for a minute, will you?"
She went into the kitchen and a moment later returned, followed by a
Chinaman, who shuffled along in his heelless slippers.
The boys glanced at him indifferently for a moment. Then a startled
recognition leaped into their eyes.
"Wah Lee," they cried in chorus, jumping to their feet.
"That same old yellow sinner," confirmed Melton complacently.
The Chinaman himself was shocked for a moment out of his Oriental
stolidity. A delighted smile spread over his face and he broke into an
excited jargon of "pidgin English," of which the refrain was:
"Velly glad slee. Wah Lee velly glad slee."
Then in a burst of grateful memory he threw himself to the floor and
tried to put their feet upon his head, as a token that he was their slave
for life. But they jerked him upright in a torrent of eager questioning.
"You old rascal."
"How did you ever get here?"
"I thought you were back in China by this time."
But Wah Lee's smile was more expansive than his vocabulary was extensive.
"Him tell," he said, pointing to Mr. Melton.
"I thought it would be a surprise party," that worthy chuckled as he
refilled his pipe. "So I didn't tell you anything about it nor did I tell
the Chink that you were coming. It was a surprise, all right," and he
chuckled again.
"It won't take very long to explain," he went on when his pipe was
drawing well. "You remember that after you got back from your trip
to the Canal you gave him money enough to go West and start a little
laundry business wherever he might choose to settle down. It seems he
drifted out to Helena, where there's quite a colony of Chinks, and
started in to wash and iron. As nearly as I can understand his gibberish,
he was doing pretty well, too, until he got mixed up in one of those
secret society feuds that play hob among those fellows. It seems that he
belonged to the On Leong clan and the Hip Son Tong got after him. They
sent on to 'Frisco for some highbinders--those professional killers, you
know--and Wah Lee got wind of the fact that he was one of the victims
marked for slaughter. Naturally, he was in a fearful stew about it, and
just when things were at their worst I happened to be in Helena on
business and ran across him. Of course, I'd never have known him, for all
Chinks look alike to me, but he recognized me in a minute and begged me
by all his gods to help him out. He knew it wouldn't do any good to go
from one city to another, because they'd get him sure, and his only
chance was to be smuggled off into some country place where they might
lose track of him. It seemed rather hard lines for the old fellow, and
though I didn't care much to mix up in the rescue stunt, I didn't have
the heart to turn him down. So he sold out his shop to one of his own
society, and I brought him out at night. I didn't know just what I'd do
with him, but it turns out that he is a dandy cook, and Mrs. Melton
insists that my running across him was a rare streak of luck."
"It certainly was for him, anyway," said Bert. "I'd hate to have anything
happen to the old boy. He had a pretty rough deal in Mexico."
"He did, for a fact," agreed Melton reminiscently, "and he hasn't gotten
over it yet. A little while ago one of my men brought in a snake that he
had killed on his way back from town. The boys were looking at it when
the Chink happened to come along, and one of them, in a joke, threw it at
him. You never saw a fellow so scared. I thought for a minute he was
going to throw a fit."
"I don't wonder," said Dick soberly.
For he, as well as Wah Lee, would never look upon one of those hideous
reptiles without a shudder. As clearly as though it were yesterday, he
saw again that morning in the Mexican hills, when, tied to a tree, he had
looked upon the monster rattlesnake that was to torture him, and prayed
that he might have courage to die without disgracing his manhood. Wah
Lee, his companion in captivity, had been brought out first, thrown flat
on the ground and fastened securely to stakes. Just out of reach, a
rattlesnake, with a buckskin thong passed through its tail, was tied to a
stake. Tortured by rage and pain, the reptile struck at the Chinaman's
face, but couldn't quite make the distance. Then water was poured on the
thong and it began to stretch. With each spring the awful fangs came
nearer, and it was only a question of minutes before they would be
embedded in the victim's flesh. Then, from the woods, Melton's bowie
knife had whizzed, slicing the snake's head from his body, and the next
instant in a rain of bullets the rescuing party had burst into the
clearing.
Later on, they had found Wah Lee on their hands, and at his earnest
entreaties had taken him with them to Panama. There he had found
employment in the house of a wealthy Japanese landholder, and by the
merest chance had been able to convey to Bert a hint of the conspiracy to
destroy the Canal. The plot had been frustrated by Bert's daring exploit,
and on the return of the party to America Wah Lee had again accompanied
them. When they had provided for him and sent him West they never thought
that again their paths would cross. Yet here he was, as bland and smiling
as ever, on this remote ranch in the Rocky Mountains. The world was only
a small place, after all.
For a long time after he had trotted away again to his duties in the
kitchen they sat discussing the exciting events that his reappearance had
brought back to their minds. Then, at last, Melton arose and shook the
ashes from his pipe.
"I reckon you youngsters are about ready to turn in," he said. "You've
had a long ride and it's getting pretty late. We'll have plenty of time
to chin before the summer's over. For I give you fair warning," he added
with his genial smile, "I've got you roped now and I ain't going to let
you go in a hurry."
He took them up to their rooms, cool, spacious and provided with every
comfort. There with a cordial good-night he left them.
Their windows faced toward the north and commanded a magnificent view of
the mountains. Tall, solemn, majestic, they towered upward in wild and
rugged beauty. The moon had risen and the distant peaks were flooded with
light. It was a scene to delight the soul of an artist and the boys
lingered under the spell.
"Just such a night as when we crouched in the shadow of that big rock in
the Mexican forest," murmured Bert. "Do you remember, Tom?"
"Yes," answered Tom; "but I don't think the moon will ever again see us
in such a desperate fix as we were in that night."
Which showed that Tom had not the gift of prophecy.