A RACE.
"I don't think, Broncho," Hugh said one evening, "that I should do
anything more about that race, if I were you, or if you do, don't lay
out any money on it. There is just as much interest in a race if it is
for a dollar or two as if all the boys in the outfit piled their money
upon it. That horse beat yours pretty easily, quite as easy, I should
say, as Prince could beat him for that distance, and I really don't
think that Prince would have any pull of him in races of the length
you have on here. In a twenty-mile gallop I feel sure he would leave
anything in camp behind easily, but I certainly would not race him any
long distance of that sort. If I had a troop of Indians after me Prince
would have to do his best whether it was twenty miles or fifty; but
I would not press him when it was merely a question of making money
on him. Your horse was beaten, and, of course, we none of us like to
own that the cross T's men have got a better horse than we have. I am
quite willing that Prince should run for the honour of the ranche, but
I don't feel at all sure about his winning, and should be sorry to see
the boys plank their dollars down heavily upon him."
"All right, Hugh! it is your horse, and I will do as you want; but I
should like to take that fellow down a bit. He is one of those fellows
as is always blowing. He rather likes to be thought a bad man, and is
said to be very handy with his six-shooter."
On Sunday morning after breakfast was over the cow-boy in question,
with two or three men of the same ranche, came across from their waggon
to that of the [brand circle triangle] men.
"Have you got anything else that can go in this crowd?" he said,
addressing Broncho Harry. "There don't seem any horses worth talking
about in the whole round-up. Some of our boys say as how they have seen
one of your lot on a likely-looking bay."
"Well, I don't deny he is a good-looking horse," Broncho Harry said,
"and can go a bit, but he is slow at starting, and that critter of
yours is too speedy for the bay to have a chance of catching him up
in a quarter of a mile. Make it a bit over, and I will ride him myself
against you if you like."
"I don't care about a half-mile," the man said, "but I will split
the difference, if you like; or if you fancy your critter for a long
journey, I am open to make a match ten miles out and back, each side to
put down two hundred dollars."
"What do you say to that, mate?" Broncho Harry said, turning to Hugh.
Hugh shook his head decidedly. "I wouldn't have him ridden at racing
speed twenty miles if there were a thousand dollars at stake," he said;
"but if you like to take up the other offer you can ride him."
"Oh! it is your horse, is it?" the cow-boy said; "why don't you ride
him yourself?"
"Because I ride something like two stone heavier than you do," Hugh
said; "and if the horse is going to race he may as well have a fair
chance."
"Well, how much shall it be for?" the cow-boy said, turning again to
Broncho Harry. "I suppose we may as well say the same stake. A hundred
dollars a side, I suppose. That won't hurt you if you fancy the horse."
Two or three of the [brand circle triangle] men broke in together,
"Take him up, Broncho, we will all chip in."
"Very well, then, that is settled," Broncho Harry said. "Shall we say
five o'clock? I suppose we shall ride the same course as last time. I
will go out now and step the distance if you will go on with me."
"All right!" the man said; and they at once proceeded to mark out a
distance of seven hundred paces, which they both agreed was somewhere
about half-way between a quarter and half a mile. A wand, to which
Broncho attached his neckerchief, was stuck up as the winning-post,
while a low bush marked the point from which they had started to
measure. The news soon spread through the camp, and many of the
cow-boys of the other ranches strolled in to find out what the [brand
circle triangle] men thought of their chances, and to see whether they
were disposed to back their horse. Hugh, however, persuaded them not to
risk their money.
"You see," he said, "my horse didn't beat Broncho's by much."
"No more did the other chap, Hugh; he just jumped two lengths ahead,
and after that Broncho held him."
"Yes, I know that," Hugh replied, "but we don't know that he was doing
his best."
"That is so," Broncho agreed. "He knew he had got me, and there was
no use in giving his horse away. I expect he had got a bit in hand.
I don't think it is good enough to bet on. Now let us get this money
together."
Twenty of the men put down their five dollars at once; and as the
others wished also to have a share, Broncho Harry said, "Well, you
three put in your five dollars each, and Hugh and I will make it up to
fifty. Like enough they will be laying odds on their horse, especially
when they find we won't bet, so that at the last moment I will take
them up for this fifty, and if we win we will put it to the stakes and
divide up all round."
The proposal was at once agreed to.
Towards the afternoon they found that the [brand X] men were offering
three and four to one upon their horse, for the odds had run up
rapidly, as none of the other cow-boys were disposed to back the
[brand circle triangle], seeing that the men of that ranche would
not bet on their horse. At the appointed hour the two competitors
went to the post. There had been several minor races, but these had
attracted comparatively little interest; every man in camp, however,
had assembled for the purpose of seeing this contest, and they were now
gathered near the winning-post. A cow-boy belonging to a neutral ranche
was to act as starter. The two riders had divested themselves of their
heavy boots.
"You must shake him up to begin with, Broncho," Hugh had said to him
before he mounted. "He will do his best afterwards. He hates being
passed, and when he sees the other ahead of him he will go all he
knows."
"Now," the starter said, when the two horses stood side by side in a
line with him, "I shall walk on twenty or thirty yards ahead so that
you can both see me, then I shall hold up my six-shooter and fire.
Don't either of you start till I do. I may fire straight off. I may
wait a minute after I have got my hand up. You have got to keep your
eyes on me, and when you see the flash then you let them go."
Both men fastened their spurs on to their stockinged feet, and as the
pistol went off struck their heels into their mounts, while, at the
same moment, Broncho Harry brought down his whip smartly on Prince's
quarter. Astonished at this treatment, the animal gave a bound forward
and started at full gallop.
There was no occasion for the other man to use his whip; his horse
knew what was expected of it, and with its hind legs gathered under
it, had been expecting the signal, and was even more quickly away than
Prince. It did not, however, gain more than a length. For the first
three hundred yards the horses maintained their relative position, but
Prince was tugging at his bridle; and his rider, though shouting and
yelling as if to urge him to his fullest speed, was yet holding him in.
Then the leading horseman, thinking that Prince was doing his best, and
feeling certain that he had the race in hand, dug his spurs into his
horse, and the animal in a few bounds had added another length to his
lead; but Broncho Harry loosened his pull at the reins and let Prince
go, and before another hundred yards had been passed his head was level
with the other's stirrup.
The [brand X] man whipped and spurred, while Broncho Harry sat quiet on
his horse, and contented himself by maintaining his present position.
When a hundred yards from home he shook his horse up, and slightly
touched him with his spur. Almost instantaneously Prince was level
with his opponent, and then dashing on ahead passed the flag-post three
lengths in advance amidst a loud cheer from the [brand circle triangle]
men, and from most of the other cow-boys; for although few had ventured
to back the horse, there was a general feeling of satisfaction at
seeing the [brand X] man beaten. The latter without a word circled
round and rode straight back to his waggon, and the stakeholder handed
over the stake and bets, which had both been deposited with him, to
Broncho Harry.
"Two hundred and fifty dollars," he said, as he put the roll of notes
in his pocket, for the bets had been made at three to one. "I call that
an easier way of making money than cow-punching. I can't stand treat,
boys, because there is no liquor in camp, but remember I owe you one
all round the first time we meet in a saloon."
Returning to camp the division was made, and each of the twenty-five
men received his share of ten dollars, together with the money he had
staked.
"I shouldn't be surprised, Hugh," Broncho Harry said as they sat round
the fire, "if we have trouble with that skunk. He is a bad-tempered
lot at best, and he dropped his money heavy, for I hear he put in all
the stake himself, and he bet some besides. He took twenty off me last
week, but he has dropped pretty well half his season's money. You see
if he don't try and get up trouble."
"If he does, leave him to me, Harry."
"I don't want to leave him to you, Hugh. I rode the race, and if he
wants fighting, he will get it here; but I am afraid it is likely
enough he will try and make trouble with you. He knows that I am a
pretty tough hand, but he thinks you nothing but a tender-foot, and
that sort of fellow always fixes a quarrel on a soft if he gets the
chance."
"Well, as you know, Harry, I can take care of myself, and I would much
rather it was me than you. I know that you are a good deal better shot
than I am, but you know you are not nearly so quick with your weapon.
There would be no occasion to shoot, I fancy."
"You are right there, lad; if you get the drop on him, you will see he
will weaken directly."
The evening, however, passed off without the defeated cow-boy making
his appearance.
"He reckons it wouldn't do," Long Tom said. "You see the hull crowd
would be agin him if he were to come and get up a muss because he
has been beat in a race. A fellow who runs his horse is bound to
look pleasant whether he wins or whether he loses, and a good many
of the boys was saying as they never see a worse thing than the way
he galloped off after Broncho came in ahead of him. If he was to come
down here and make a muss, he knows that for sure the crowd wouldn't
stand it, and that if everything wasn't perfectly square, they would
come Judge Lynch on him in no time. Now a man may take the chance of
being shot in a quarrel; but when, if he ain't shot by one man he is
likely to get hung by a crowd, it takes a pretty hard man to run the
chances; only, look out for him, Broncho. I believe he has got a touch
of Mexican blood in him, although, I dare say, he would shoot the man
who ventured to say so, only it is there for all that, and you know a
Mexican don't mind waiting months so that he gets even at last."
"That's so," Broncho Harry agreed; "a greaser is about the worst sort
of white; that is, if you can call them white. I don't know but I hate
them more than Injuns."
On the following morning half No. 1 outfit started north, with a
herd of 5000 cattle that had been picked out from those driven in and
branded; and Hugh, with his four mates, now took their turn at driving
in the herds to the yard. This was much more to Hugh's taste than
the previous work had been. He did not mind the work of hauling out
and throwing the calves, nor of keeping back the cows, but he hated
seeing the calves branded, and still more, the operation of cutting
their ears. It was, of course, necessary work, but it was painful
to him to share in, and indeed he had generally managed to get Bill
Royce to exchange work with him when he was told off to perform these
operations.
The herding, on the other hand, was good fun. The animals seemed to
have an instinctive repulsion for the stock-yard; many of them had been
branded there the previous year, and probably recognized the spot. At
any rate, there were constant attempts to break away, and it needed all
the energy and vigilance of their guard to drive them down to the yard,
and still more to keep them there while awaiting their turn to enter
it. But more exciting still, and much more dangerous, was the work
of those who kept guard at the lower end of the yard. As the animals
came out, the calves were half mad with terror and pain, and the cows
furious at the defeat of their efforts to succour their offspring, so
that it was dangerous work for the men of the various ranches to pick
out the animals bearing their brand and to drive them off to the knot
of animals gathered at some little distance away under the guard of two
of their comrades.
Sometimes the cows made furious charges, which it needed all the
agility of horse and rider to avoid; then, as the animal rushed past,
a rope would be thrown over its head or under its leg, and an instant
later it would come to the ground with a crash. This generally proved
sufficient. The cow, when the rope was slackened, rose to its feet in
a half dazed way and walked heavily off, with the evident impression
upon its mind that an earthquake had taken place. Hugh was glad when he
heard in the middle of the day that the rest of the outfit had arrived
with the waggon and all the horses--for he felt that Prince had had
enough of it--and he at once galloped off, roped one of his own horses,
shifted the saddle on to him, and went back to work.
One or two of the bulls gave a great deal of trouble, charging hither
and thither furiously as they came out from the yard. In these cases
three or four of the cow-boys united, and while one attracted his
attention, the others threw their ropes. Some of the bulls had to be
thrown half a dozen times before they were subdued.
A few days later the [brand X] man, who went by the name of Flash Bill,
walked up to the fire round which the cow-boys of No. 2 outfit were
sitting.
"I have just come across to say I am sorry I rode off that day you beat
me, Broncho. I allow it was a mean trick of me, but I was riled pretty
considerable; still I oughtn't ter have done it; it wurn't the right
thing."
"It wurn't," Harry said; "but now you own up there is an end of it. Sit
right down and have a smoke."
For some time the conversation turned upon horses. Two or three other
men of the [brand X] ranche sauntered up and joined in. Presently Flash
Bill turned to Hugh, who had taken no part in the conversation, and
said, "Have you a mind to trade that horse?"
"No, I wouldn't sell it at any price," Hugh said. "It exactly suits me,
and I should find difficulty in getting another as good."
"Seems to me as I have seen that horse before," the man said. "Had him
long?"
"I have had him about eight months," Hugh replied.
"Curious; I seem to know him. Can't think where I have seen him;
somewhere out West."
"I bought him at M'Kinney," Hugh said.
"Oh! You bought him, did you?"
"How do you suppose I got him?" Hugh asked shortly.
"Oh! there are plenty of horses out on these plains as never was paid
for," Flash Bill said.
"I don't say there are not," Hugh replied. "At any rate, I expect you
are a better authority about that than I am."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean exactly what I say," Hugh said quietly.
"Do you mean to say as I have been a horse-thief!" the man exclaimed
furiously.
"I mean to say exactly what I did say," Hugh replied.
"Then you are a liar!" and the man's hand went to his hip. To his
astonishment, before his finger had closed on the butt of his pistol,
he was looking down the barrel of Hugh's revolver.
"Drop that," Hugh exclaimed, "or I fire!" Flash Bill threw up his hand.
"Now you will take that back," Hugh said.
"I take it back," Flash Bill said sullenly. "You've got the drop on
me, though how you did it I don't know. There ain't nothing more to be
said. I take it back."
"There is an end of it, then," Hugh said, replacing his pistol in his
belt. "You thought you had got a soft thing. You see you've made a
mistake."
"You had better git, Flash Bill," Broncho Harry said. "You ain't wanted
here. You came over to make a muss, and only I knowed as Hugh could
hold his own with you I would have put a bullet into you myself when
I saw your hand go to your pistol. You git, and if you will take my
advice, you will git altogether. You can't play the bad man in this
camp any longer, after weakening before a young chap as is little more
than a tender-foot."
With a muttered execration Flash Bill got up, and, followed by the men
of his own ranche, walked off.
"You did mighty well, considering that it is the first trouble you've
been in, Hugh; but you did wrong in not shooting. The rule on the
plains is, if one man calls another either a liar or a coward, that
fellow has a right to shoot him down if he can get his gun out first.
That's the rule, ain't it, boys?"
There was a chorus of assent.
"You may call a man pretty nigh everything else, and it don't go for
much. We ain't chice as to our words here; but them two words, liar and
coward, is death, and you would have done well to have shot him. You
bet, you'll have trouble with that fellow some day. You'll see he will
go now, but you'll hear of him again."
"I could no more have shot him than I could have flown," Hugh said,
"for he was really unarmed."
"He would have shot you if he had been heeled first," Long Tom said,
"and there ain't a man in the camp but would have said that you had
been perfectly right if you had shot him, for it is sartin he came over
here bound to kill you. I agree with Broncho. You have done a mighty
soft thing, and maybe you will be sorry for it some day. I have heard
say that Flash Bill has been a mighty hard man in his time, and I guess
as stealing horses ain't been the worse thing he has done, and I reckon
he has come back here to work for a bit, because he has made it too hot
for himself in the settlements. Well, it's a pity you didn't shoot."
The next morning, as they were saddling their horses, Flash Bill
rode past. He had his blankets and kit strapped behind his saddle. He
checked his horse as he came up to them. "I give you warning," he said
to Hugh, "that I'll shoot at sight when we meet again! You too, Broncho
Harry."
"All right!" Broncho Harry replied. "We shall both be ready for you."
Without another word Flash Bill put spurs to his horse and galloped
away.
This was the regular form of challenge among the cow-boys. Sometimes
after a quarrel, in which one had got the drop of the other, and the
latter had been obliged to "take back" what he had said, mutual friends
would interfere; and if the row had taken place when one or other of
the men had been drinking, or when there was no previous malice or
dislike between the men, the matter would be made up and things go
on as before. If, however, the quarrel had been a deliberate one,
and one or other considered himself still aggrieved, he would take
his discharge and leave the camp on the following morning, giving his
antagonist notice that he should shoot at sight when they next met,
and whether the meeting was alone on the plains, in a drinking saloon,
or in a street, both parties would draw and fire the moment their eyes
fell on each other.
That Flash Bill should have been forced to take back his words by
this young hand of the [brand circle triangle] ranch was a matter of
the deepest astonishment to the camp, and Hugh found himself quite a
popular character, for Flash Bill had made himself very obnoxious; and
with the exception of two or three men of his own stamp in the [brand
X] outfit, the men of that body were more pleased than anyone else that
the bully had had to leave. None were more astonished than the men of
the other outfits of the [brand circle triangle] ranche. They had heard
Hugh addressed as Lightning; but curiosity is not a cow-boy failing,
and few had given a thought as to how he had come by the appellation.
One or two had asked the question, but Broncho Harry had, the night
before his party started to the round-up, said to the others, "Look
here, boys. If anyone asks how Lightning Hugh came by his name, don't
you give him away. They will larn one of these days, and it will be as
good as a theyater when he does that gun trick of his. So keep it dark
from the other boys."
The few questions asked, therefore, had been met with a laugh.
"It is a sort of joke of ours," Broncho Harry had said to one of the
questioners. "You will see one of these days why it fits him."
Hugh was not sorry when the time came for his outfit to start. They
had charge of a herd of eight or nine thousand animals all belonging to
the [brand circle triangle]. It was customary for most of the ranches
to drive their own cattle, after a round-up, towards the neighbourhood
of their station for the convenience of cutting out the steers that
were to be sent down to market, or herds, principally of cows and
calves, for purchasers who intended to establish ranches in the still
unoccupied territory in New Mexico, Colorado, Dakota, and Montana. Some
of these herds would have thousands of miles to travel, and be many
months upon the journey. Many of the cow-boys looked forward to taking
service with these herds, and trying life under new conditions in the
northern territories.
When the beef herds, and such cow herds as the manager of the ranche
wished to sell, had been picked out and sent off, the rest of the
cattle would be free to wander anywhere they liked over the whole
country until they were again swept together for the round-up, unless
other sales were effected in the meantime, in which case parties of
cow-boys would go out to cut out and drive in the number required. The
number of cattle collected at the rounds-up was enormous, many of the
ranches owning from forty to eighty thousand cattle. A considerable
number were not driven in at the round-up, as the greater portion of
the beef-cattle, which had already been branded, were cut out and left
behind by the various outfits, and only the cows and calves, with a few
bulls to serve as leaders, were driven in. Nevertheless, at these great
rounds-up in Texas, the number of the animals collected mounted up to
between two and three hundred thousand.
Two-thirds of the work was over when No. 2 outfit of the [brand circle
triangle] ranche started.
"Well, I am glad that is over, Bill," Hugh said, as they halted at the
end of the first day's march.
"I am not sorry," Bill Royce replied; "it is desperate hard work. All
day at the stock-yard, and half one's time at night on guard with the
herds, is a little too much for anyone."
"Yes, it has been hard work," Hugh said; "but I don't think I meant
that so much as that it was not so pleasant in other ways as usual.
The men are too tired to talk or sing of an evening. One breakfasted,
or rather swallowed one's food half asleep before daylight, took
one's dinner standing while at work, and was too tired to enjoy one's
supper."
"I reckon it has been a good round-up," Broncho Harry said. "There have
been only four men killed by the cattle, and there haven't been more
than five or six shooting scrapes. Let me think! yes, only five men
have been shot."
"That is five too many, Broncho," Hugh said.
"Well, that is so in one way, Hugh; but you see we should never get on
out here without shooting."
"Why shouldn't we?"
"Because we are an all-fired rough lot out here. There ain't no law,
and no sheriffs, and no police, and no troops. How in thunder would you
keep order if it weren't for the six-shooter? Thar would be no peace,
and the men would be always quarrelling and wrangling. How would you
work it anyhow? It is just because a quarrel means a shooting scrape
that men don't quarrel, and that every one keeps a civil tongue in
his head. There ain't nowhere in the world where there is so little
quarrelling as out here on the plains. You see, if we didn't all carry
six-shooters, and were ready to use them, the bad-tempered men, and
the hard men, would have it their own way. Big fellows like you would
be able to bully little fellows like me. We should get all the bad
men from the towns whenever they found the settlements too hot for
them. We should have murderers, and gamblers, and horse-thieves coming
and mixing themselves up with us. I tell you, Hugh, that without the
revolver there would be no living out here. No, sirree, the six-shooter
puts us all on a level, and each man has got to respect another. I
don't say as there ain't a lot wiped out every year, because there is;
but I say that it is better so than it would be without it. When these
plains get settled up, and the grangers have their farms on them, and
the great cattle ranches go, and you get sheriffs, and judges, and
all that, the six-shooter will go too, but you can't do without it
till then. The revolver is our sheriff, and judge, and executioner all
rolled in one. No one who is quiet and peaceable has got much occasion
to use it."
"I nearly had to use it the other day, Broncho, and I reckon I am quiet
and peaceable."
"Waal, I don't altogether know about that, Hugh. I don't say as you
want to quarrel, quite the contrary, but you made up your mind before
you came here that if you got into trouble you were going to fight, and
you practised and practised until you got so quick that you are sure
you can get the drop on anyone you get into a muss with. So though you
don't want to get in a quarrel, if anyone wants to quarrel with you
you are ready to take him up. Now if it hadn't been so there wouldn't
have been any shooting-irons out the other night. Flash Bill came over
to get up a quarrel. He was pretty well bound to get up a quarrel with
some one, but if you had been a downright peaceable chap he could not
have got up a quarrel with you. If you had said quietly, when he kinder
said as how you hadn't come by that horse honest, that Bill here had
been with you when you bought him, and that you got a document in your
pocket, signed by a sheriff and a judge, to prove that you had paid for
it, there would have been no words with you. I don't say as Flash Bill,
who was just spoiling for a fight, wouldn't have gone at somebody else.
Likely enough he would have gone at me. Waal, if I had been a quiet and
peaceable chap I should have weakened too, and so it would have gone on
until he got hold of somebody as wasn't going to weaken to no one, and
then the trouble would have begun. I don't say as this is the place for
your downright peaceable man, but I say if such a one comes here he can
manage to go through without mixing himself up in shooting scrapes."
"But in that way a man like Flash Bill, let us say, who is known to be
ready to use his pistol, might bully a whole camp."
"Yas, if they wur all peaceable people; but then, you see, they ain't.
This sort of life ain't good for peaceable people. We take our chances
pretty well every day of getting our necks broke one way or another,
and when that is so one don't think much more of the chance of being
shot than of other chances. Besides, a man ain't allowed to carry on
too bad. If he forces a fight on another and shoots him, shoots him
fair, mind you, the boys get together and say this can't go on; and
that man is told to git, and when he is told that he has got to, if
he don't he knows what he has got to expect. No, sirree, I don't say
as everything out in the plains is just arranged as it might be in New
York; but I say that, take the life as it is, I don't see as it could
be arranged better. There was a chap out here for a bit as had read up
no end of books, and he said it was just the same sort of thing way
back in Europe, when every man carried his sword by his side and was
always fighting duels, till at last the kings got strong enough to make
laws to put it down and managed things without it; and that's the way
it will be in this country. Once the law is strong enough to punish
bad men, and make it so that there ain't no occasion for a fellow to
carry about a six-shooter to protect his life, then the six-shooter
will go. But that won't be for a long time yet. Why, if it wasn't for
us cow-boys, there wouldn't be no living in the border settlements. The
horse-thieves and the outlaws would just rampage about as they pleased,
and who would follow them out on the plains and into the mountains? But
they know we won't have them out here, and that there would be no more
marcy shown to them if they fell into our hands than there would be
to a rattler. Then, again, who is it keeps the Injuns in order? Do you
think it is Uncle Sam's troops? Why, the Red-skins just laugh at them.
It's the cow-boys."
"It ain't so long ago," Long Tom put in, "as a boss commissioner came
out to talk with the natives, and make them presents, and get them to
live peaceful. People out in the east, who don't know nothing about
Injuns, are always doing some foolish thing like that. The big chief
he listens to the commissioner, and when he has done talking to him,
and asks what presents he should like, the chief said as the thing
that would most tickle him would be half a dozen cannons with plenty of
ammunition."
"'But,' says the commissioner, 'we can't give you cannon to fight our
troops with.'
"'Troops!' says the chief; 'who cares about the troops? We can just
drive them whenever we like. We want the cannon to fight the cow-boys.'
"That chief knew what was what. It is the cow-boys as keep back the
Red-skins, it's the cow-boys as prevent these plains getting filled up
with outlaws and horse-thieves, and the cow-boys can do it 'cause each
man has got six lives pretty sartin at his belt, and as many more as he
has time to slip in fresh cartridges for; and because we don't place
much valley on our lives, seeing as we risk them every day. We know
they ain't likely to be long anyhow. What with death among the herds,
shooting scrapes, broken limbs, and one thing and another, and the
work which wears out the strongest in a few years, a cow-boy's life is
bound to be a short one. You won't meet one in ten who is over thirty.
It ain't like other jobs. We don't go away and take up with another
trade. What should we be fit for? A man that has lived on horseback,
and spent his life galloping over the plains, what is he going to do
when he ain't no longer fit for this work? He ain't going to hoe a
corn-patch or wear a biled shirt and work in a store. He ain't going to
turn lawyer, or set up to make boots or breeches. No, sirree. He knows
as ten years is about as much as he can reckon on if his chances are
good, and that being so, he don't hold nothing particular to his life.
We ain't got no wives and no children. We works hard for our money, and
when we gets it we spend it mostly in a spree. We are ready to share
it with any mate as comes along hard up. It might be better, and it
might be worse. Anyway, I don't see no chance of changing it as long
as there is room out west for cattle ranches. Another hundred years and
the grangers will have got the land and the cow-boys will be gone, but
it will last our time anyhow."
Hugh was much struck with this estimate of a cow-boy's life by one of
themselves, but on thinking it over he saw that it was a true one.
These men were the adventurous spirits of the United States. Had
they been born in England they would have probably either enlisted
or run away as boys and gone to sea. They were men to whom a life of
action was a necessity. Their life resembled rather that of the Arab
or the Red Indian than that of civilized men. Their senses had become
preternaturally acute; their eyesight was wonderful. They could hear
the slightest sound, and pronounce unhesitatingly how it was caused.
There was not an ounce of unnecessary flesh upon them. Their muscles
seemed to have hardened into whip-cord.
They were capable of standing the most prolonged fatigue and hardship,
and just as a wild stag will run for a considerable distance after
receiving a wound that would be instantly fatal to a domestic animal,
these men could, as he had seen for himself, and still more, as he
had heard many anecdotes to prove, sustain wounds and injuries of the
most terrible kind and yet survive, seeming, in many cases, almost
insensible to pain. They were, in fact, a race apart, and had very
many good qualities and comparatively few bad ones. They were, indeed,
as Long Tom had said, reckless of their lives, and they spent their
earnings in foolish dissipation. But they knew of no better way. The
little border-towns or Mexican villages they frequented offered no
other amusements, and except for clothes and ammunition for their
pistols they had literally no other need for their money.
Nothing could exceed the kindness with which they nursed each other in
illness or their generosity to men in distress. They were devoted to
the interests of their employers, undergoing, as a matter of course,
the most prolonged and most prodigious exertions. They were frank,
good-tempered, and kindly in their intercourse with each other, as
addicted to practical jokes as so many school-boys, and joining as
heartily in the laugh when they happened to be the victims as when they
were the perpetrators of the joke. Their code of honour was perhaps a
primitive one, but they lived up to it strictly, and in spite of its
hardships and its dangers there was an irresistible fascination in the
wild life that they led.
[Illustration]