Johnny Nelson hastened to the corner of the bunkhouse and then changed
his pace until he seemed to ooze from there to the cook shack door,
where he lazily leaned against the door jamb and ostentatiously picked
his teeth with the negative end of a match. The cook looked up calmly,
and calmly went on with his work; but if there was anything rasping
enough to cause his calloused soul to quiver it was the aforesaid
calisthenics executed by Johnny and the match; for Cookie's blunt nature
hated hints. If Johnny had demanded, even profanely and with large
personal animus, why meals were not ahead of time, it would be a simple
matter to heave something and enlarge upon his short cut speech. But the
subtleties left the cook floundering in a mire of rage--which he was
very careful to conceal from Johnny. The youthful nuisance had been
evincing undue interest in early suppers for nearly a month; and judging
from the lightness of his repasts he was entirely unjustified in showing
any interest at all in the evening meal. So Cookie strangled the
biscuit in his hand, but smiled blandly at his tormentor.
"Well, all through?" he pleasantly inquired, glancing carelessly at
Johnny's clothes.
"I 'm hopin' to begin," retorted Johnny, and the toothpick moved rapidly
up and down.
Cookie condensed another biscuit and gulped. "That's shore some stone,"
he said, enviously, eying the two-caret diamond in Johnny's new, blue
tie. Johnny never had worn a tie before he became owner of the diamond,
but with the stone came the keen realization of how lost it was in a
neck-kerchief, how often covered by the wind-blown folds; so he had
hastened to Buckskin and spent a dollar that belonged to Red for the
tie, thus exhausting both the supply of ties and Red's dollars. The
honor of wearing the only tie and diamond in that section of the
cow-country brought responsibilities, for he had spoken hastily to
several humorous friends and stood a good chance of being soundly
thrashed therefor.
He threw away the match and scratched his back ecstatically on the door
jamb while he strained his eyes trying to look under his chin. Fixed
chins and short ties are trials one must learn to accept
philosophically--and Johnny might have been spared the effort were it
not for the fact that the tie had been made for a boy, and was awesomely
shortened by encircling a sixteen-inch neck. Evidently it had been made
for a boy violently inclined toward a sea-faring life, as suggested by
the anchors embroidered in white down its middle.
"Lemme see it," urged Cookie, sighing because its owner had resolutely
refused to play poker when he had no cash. This had become a blighting
sorrow in the life of a naturally exuberant and very fair cook.
"An' for how long?" demanded Johnny, a cold and calculating light
glinting in his eyes.
"Oh, till supper 's ready," replied Cookie with great carelessness.
"Nix; but you can wear it twenty minutes if you 'll get my grub quick,"
he replied. "Got to meet Lucas at half-past five." He cautiously
dropped the match he had thoughtlessly produced.
The cook tried to look his belief and accepted the offer. Johnny's
remarkably clean face, plastered hair and general gala attire suggested
that Lucas was a woman--which Lucas profanely would have denied. Also,
Johnny had been seen washing Ginger, and when a puncher washes a cayuse
it's a sign of insanity. Besides, Ginger belonged to Red, who also had
owned that lone dollar. Red's clothes did not fit Johnny.
"Goin' to surprise Lucas?" inquired the cook.
"What you mean?"
Cookie glanced meaningly at the attire: "Er--you ain't in th' habit of
puttin' on war paint for to see Lucas, are you?"